<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>the stars and a pocket full of cherry wrappers by afellowofyellow</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24182050">the stars and a pocket full of cherry wrappers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/afellowofyellow/pseuds/afellowofyellow'>afellowofyellow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the stars and the sun [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(there's only one scene with violence), -only the one scene though (the rest is implied), Addiction, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Crushes, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Huang Ren Jun-centric, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, OT7 NCT Dream, Personal Growth, Slow Burn, platonic chenji and markhyuck (for nOw)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 22:13:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24182050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/afellowofyellow/pseuds/afellowofyellow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The treehouse had always been the only thing Renjun had for himself - his oasis to escape the violent shouts that rang through thin walls. What Renjun didn't rely on was the boy who'd come to claim the small platform as his own, trading discarded sour hard candy for a spot beside Renjun's own on the wooden abode.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the stars and the sun [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. p f o c w</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tw for descriptions of violence (mentioned but only for the one scene) and throughout the story repeated mention of family issues.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>there's a playlist for this now..  :]</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/189khjoqUgvEKkdU7yeLDp?si=GmwFsjxLTlaAdJj3KznWfw">playlist</a>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>https://open.spotify.com/playlist/189khjoqUgvEKkdU7yeLDp?si=GmwFsjxLTlaAdJj3KznWfw</p><p>p f o c w by emily™ on spotify</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. p f o c w</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i.</p><p>There were few things Huang Renjun found he couldn’t live without. One was the warmth that soaked into his skin on summer evenings, perched on the edge of the rickety treehouse nestled deep behind his backyard. He’d swing his feet over the ledge and kick into the oak leaves that rustled in the slight breeze. Another, the rose bush that nipped at his arms as he brushed past, bounding out his threshold, and left scratches of white, reminding him to appreciate its beauty.</p><p>The final, he discovered, was Na Jaemin.</p><p>Renjun first encountered the boy in the brisk cold that greeted the dead center of winter months. The snow below his feet crunched as sugar as he had bounded through the woods, jumping over logs and crushing fallen leaves, slickened with the slush. He’d been staring to the sky, a dark pool of solemn gray that remained long past the clouds of snow had retreated, fading blues painting slowly over the horizon with the lingering sun, his mind pensive and reflecting a similar graveness emanating from across his features as he approached his familiar landmark.</p><p>Renjun had sighed as he continued through the woods, his nose red with the cold as he sniffled. His chest felt heavy and dimmed, the corners of his lips tugged downward with the crinkle of his forehead and he kept his gaze pointed toward the scuffing of his feet through the wet snow.</p><p>The sun had begun to sink, though it didn’t bother Renjun as to whether he’d have to venture home past dark, past curfew. He’d rather stay out to avoid the shouts that plagued the walls. He hummed to himself in frustration, though the presence of his treehouse proved to console the anxiety that resided within his small frame.</p><p>The clearing was small, weeds and tall grass, weighed slightly by the layer of snow and wet, brushing over his calves and clinging to the wood posts that held the small platform of the treehouse. Trees scattered throughout the clearing, branches reaching across to rest along the skyline and vegetation coating the floor, peaking through white in tufts of green.</p><p>The boy wrapped his fingers over the small, splintered pieces of his latter and climbed, legs creaking with the effort to haul himself onto the open platform. The planks were rotting, though it didn’t seem to bother Renjun as he doubted the effort of his slim weight would cause the wood to collapse. However, as Renjun thrust his legs over the edge, gripping onto the platform with small palms and swinging feet, the sound of a snapping caused him to furrow his brows, heart leaping as his head twisted.</p><p>Renjun’s weight was slight and he puzzled over the wooden planks, wondering whether they had snapped with the sound. He found no cracks, nor felt any shift as the boy presumed it would have dropped with the splinter, and he cocked his brow. He stiffened as he continued to scan the empty treehouse before the line of trees below him began to shift and rustle, brushing branches together with a soft grind.</p><p>The sunken sun had covered the snow ridden forest in a hazy blue and blinding white, and visibility into the trees was hard as Renjun squinted, the rustling sound continuing. Renjun scrambled to his feet; the newfound fear coursing through him pushing him to be painfully aware of the frigid temperatures around him, along with the lack of his coat and wool scarf.</p><p>He’d rushed from his home in a hurry; barely remembered to slip on the pair of small runners before bounding past the dormant branches of his roses and away from the threats spewing from his brother’s mouth, away from the cowering of his mother, and away from the booming thunder of his father; and had forgotten the biting cold that would nip over his bare flesh and spring goose pimples on the soft, pale skin.</p><p>Suddenly, through the darkness of the forest Renjun could see a boy burst into the small clearing, his chest heaving and a wide smile splayed across his rosy cheeks. He stared up at the tall oak, and Renjun’s abode settled onto it, and his smile seemed to grow wider before he started, eyes resting on the shorter boy staring down onto him.</p><p>“Oh,” he stated simply, smile slipping slightly before appearing once more, just as bright. Renjun quirked his head down.</p><p>“Oh,” Renjun repeated dryly, almost mocking the boy.</p><p>“Hello!” he stated, excitement painted across the word, “You’ve found my treehouse!” Renjun furrowed his brow at the boy’s words. He surveyed the boy slightly, eyes flickering over his figure. His hair was a dark brown in the waning light, his wide smile giving way to fairly straight, small teeth. His eyes crinkled into half-moons with his exhibition of happiness and deep wrinkles formed around his mouth. He was a slim thing, like Renjun, and appeared to stand not much taller, nor any older.</p><p>“Your?”</p><p>“Yep! We built it a while back, before we moved of course, I didn’t think it’d still be around,” the smile remained on his face as he rambled, excitedly, before he thrust his hands in a gesture towards the tall structure, as if to say, “Here it is!”. The eleven year-old nearly sneered.</p><p>“Well, it’s not yours anymore, now is it?” he frowned, a feeling close to jealousy at the idea that this boy would take his home from him.</p><p>“Oh,” he stated from below once more. The glowing smile slipped from his face, remaining crestfallen, then: “We can’t share?” his question came slowly, near silently, and coated with sadness that nearly made Renjun scoff.</p><p>“No. I’ve claimed it, and you left it.”</p><p>“I had no choice!” the boy from below said, disbelief and exasperation coating his voice as his eyes shifted to stare up at Renjun once more, fists clenched beside him. “Why can’t we share?”</p><p>“Because I need it,” Renjun stated, his tone was no longer menacing, though he remained amused at the boy’s strangled want. Renjun enjoyed his power.</p><p>The brown haired boy below him seemed to ponder Renjun’s words, eyes flitting around the clearing with a tight expression formulating over his scrunched features. He appeared disappointed, the locks of his brown hair pushing into his face and over his hesitant eyes. He looked to Renjun to be deep in thought, his bottom lip chewed between his teeth.</p><p>“I’ll give you my lemon candy!” the boy from below perked up, his hands grappling over the pockets of his thick coat, engulfing his frail frame.</p><p>“Your lemon candy?” Renjun was amused. A smirk plagued his mouth as he found himself scoffing; he was willing to bargain for sweets, though the treehouse would remain simply Renjun’s and he a guest.</p><p>The boy below thrust his hand into the air, plastic crinkling and his coat shifting at his sudden movement. The smile had returned to his little face and his eyes crinkled with excitement. “My lemon candy!” he laughed as he spoke, “I knew it’d come in handy! I’ve never liked the sour lemon, I like cherry best, but I thought I should save it in case someone needed candy,” he rushed his words, happiness oozing as he pulled more of the white wrappers from his pocket, lemons assorted over in decoration.</p><p>Renjun pondered for a moment, before he nodded, “Alright, come on up, but I expect to get whatever lemon flavors you have left every time you don’t eat them. You could leave them in the treehouse.”</p><p>At his words the boy below him squirmed happily, “Easy!” he shouted, fumbling up the ladder and plopping beside the other boy. “My name’s Na Jaemin,” he smiled brightly to Renjun and the boy’s lips quirked in amusement.</p><p>“Renjun, Huang Renjun,” He stated it simply and the boy turned to him in excitement. He seemed to ooze the same exuberance of the stars with ease and Renjun found himself puzzling over his brightness even in the newfound darkness of twilight.</p><p>“That’s a pretty name! Is it Chinese?” Renjun’s eyebrow quirked.</p><p>“Well, considering I am Chinese I would think so…” Renjun trailed off and Jaemin seemed unfazed and oblivious to his taunting.</p><p>“I’m Korean! Though I’ve never been. My parents taught me to speak the language with them, though I’m not very good,” despite his seemingly pitiful confession, Jaemin’s light didn’t dim with disappointment toward himself.</p><p>“I speak Chinese, I actually grew up there. I speak a little bit of Korean; my mom had wanted me to learn it because of where we lived and the population of Koreans there. Though, I don’t see the point of continuing in learning it anymore, it’s not as if I’ll have a use for it. The most I need is English and Chinese, and even then-” Renjun confessed, rambling just as the boy did before stopping himself, surprised at the ease to which he spoke to the other with.</p><p>“Yeah?” Jaemin urged. He seemed to cling to every word the other spoke, his smile bright as he leaned into him.</p><p>“And even then, I won’t ever be going back to China.”</p><p>Jaemin’s head of dark brown hair quirked, “No?” he questioned.</p><p>“No.” Renjun replied simply and Jaemin nodded, glancing to the sky which had begun to fade to black.</p><p>The stars peered through the opaque dark, specks of white illuminating like incandescent lightbulbs. Renjun watched Jaemin trail his eyes over the sky, glints of light reflecting in the shine or his irises as his lips parted softly. Renjun smiled slightly at the boy’s display of awe, turning to glance over the sky himself.</p><p>A sudden shiver coursed through Renjun from the onslaught of darkness, the temperature dropping further, and he debated jumping down the ladder to face his family. Though, he found himself more inclined to face the former, goose pimples across his flesh more appealing if accompanied by silence unbroken by shouts and instead dull chatter. Renjun saw a sudden movement to his right and turned, greeted by Jaemin shrugging an arm from his coat and pulling it around Renjun’s shoulder. As Renjun went to protest, his mouth open in complaint and shoulder shrugging away from the warmth, he was greeted by Jaemin’s smile. His lips curled away to reveal a slight overbite of white teeth and his eyes crinkled slightly. Renjun’s words caught in his throat at the selfless act and he turned away, silenced by the boy’s kind smile and accepting the gesture.</p><p>The darkness continued to sneak into the shadows of the forest further as the boys mused in whispered conversation, the hesitation of newfound friendship and the creeping darkness hushing them into tentatively secretive tones.</p><p>The sting of lemon kissed Renjun’s tongue as he shared a small smile with the unreserved boy beside him. They had stopped speaking, topics not running dry but simply treasured for later. The growing silence between them was comfortable as the flavored candy; one the blissful sweetness of cherry, the other a sharp tang of lemon; melted across warm tongues and stretched lips cracked with cold into grins.</p><p>The forest had long since grown quiet, the snow muffling the usual buzz of nature and a growing blanket of sleepiness coating the boys. The last light of twilight had dimmed and the stars shown above the boys as Jaemin began to shift, the coat draped over his shoulder falling to cover Renjun fully as he’d bestowed it over him prior.</p><p>“I should head back, my parents won’t be happy with me staying in the woods after dark,” the corners of his lips were pushed deep into his cheeks in a slight grimace.</p><p>“Alright,” Renjun stated. He made no move to rise, though he knew he’d soon follow after the other boy home. His parents wouldn’t have noticed him leaving, though he’d probably get scolded with his return. He didn’t particularly want to return to the heavy air of the small cottage-like house, the uncomfortable atmosphere of a place he should look to for refuge. He wished he could stay in his treehouse for forever. He had no need for the graham crackers stacked in his pantry if it meant freedom from the fear that surrounded the company of his brother. He’d easily pass up his mother’s grilled cheeses for the relief the groaning wood structure provided.</p><p>After all, he had a few lemon candies to ebb away the hunger he’d face.</p><p>Jaemin had begun to stumble toward the ladder in the dark, hands groping the wood and feet pushing into the crevices for safety, when Renjun started at the jacket that remained over his shoulders. He stood suddenly and ventured to the other ledge of the platform, peering down the latter as the figure climbed steadily.</p><p>“Your jacket!” Renjun shouted to the boy whose feet were then planted onto the glinting crystals of snow, shrugging it off and moving to toss it over the edge before Jaemin raised his hand.</p><p>“Keep it,” his teeth gleamed, “I’ve got more! And I’m bundled up in my turtleneck and this <em>scratchy</em> scarf. You seem to need it more than me,” Jaemin gestured to Renjun’s thin cotton t-shirt.</p><p>Renjun startled and blinked toward the boy below. His eyes were wide before he shrunk further into the warmth the other boy provided him and watched him turn, disappearing into the darkened, bare underbrush of winter woods.</p><p>Maybe he truly was like the stars, providing warmth and light to the other boy with the ease as such seemed to appear and shine through the dark each night.<br/>
And maybe this wasn’t just Renjun’s treehouse anymore.</p><p> </p><p>ii.</p><p>The day Renjun had returned to the treehouse was the day a knife had been flung into a wall, shouts echoing and dial tones reverberating.</p><p>He hadn’t gotten to brush past his roses then; he’d slid through his window onto the dirt underneath. His ankle panged with the impact as he dropped to the ground below, the distance holding a few feet over him and causing him to stumble before he broke into a run.</p><p>The snow had melted from the beating of the sun, although the temperature remained unchanging and icy. Once more, the winter sky remained gray to match Renjun’s foul mood. He studied it with glaring eyes. Maybe if he blamed the sky for his dim mood he’d forget the fear coursing throughout him. Maybe if he blamed the sky for his dim mood it’d improve as the horizon became bright with the blooming of spring. Instead, Renjun knew the sky remained oblivious and its own being, his pain controlled instead by a boy of eight years older.</p><p>Renjun could still remember the exact moment his household had been sprung into utter hell. He expected the memory to fade with the continuous fighting, that the outbursts would dull and he’d grow numb and accustomed to the shouts. He didn’t. Fear still continuously plagued him with the smallest of sounds that trickled into his room and past his ears, worry for the potential that the raised voices were screams instead of forgiving laughter.</p><p>He’d been nine at the time, the small family living in their simple house in Jilin. Renjun remembered the few friends he’d had, remembered his constant want for a dog. He’d felt regular, loved by his family and problem-free (excluding his fear of the dark), looked up to his elder sibling and idolized the idea of growing up to look similar to him, be similar to him. It was a routine night for Renjun, having completed his homework for the following day and settled down to doodle before he’d found himself at the dinner table with his family. It was simply moments after he’d cleared his plate from dinner that his parents asked him to leave them to speak with his brother. He’d set his dish into the sink with a soft clatter and retreated into his bathroom, running the water before settling himself into the warm embrace of the tub. The water sloshed joyfully around him and he tipped his head back, sinking his crown below the surface of the warmth. The world muffled, almost slowed, before he remembered the sounds of shouts breaking the tension above. He lifted slightly, ears straining to the fight that unfolded below him.</p><p>The police came to him that night.</p><p>They came to him many other nights as well.</p><p>Renjun sighed as he reached the slight clearing, a small patch of slight, pale purple flowers pushing hardily through the freezing of the winter. Worry etched his brow as Renjun continued past the patch, his mind elsewhere. The treehouse remained void of a dark haired boy and Renjun turned his eyes down from the sky.</p><p>The black haired boy crept up the latter, his feet fitting into the spaces effortlessly; the action was smooth with the familiarity of countless repetition. He hadn’t returned to his space in a while; the holidays kept him busy and tied to home, helping his mom in the kitchen and in constant company of others. Though, naturally, they couldn’t pass through the celebration unscathed.</p><p>It had been a while since an outburst had wracked fear into his body, his brother seemingly calm and almost excited with the oncoming holidays. It was strange and unfamiliar to Renjun, to be acknowledged by his brother, and he wondered when the catch would make itself known –when he’d return to fearing the boy who seemed foreign and strange as he admonished his latest obsessions excitedly, when he’d have to escape to the cold of the treehouse. It wasn’t long before the elder’s changed personality melted to the monstrous storm of anger.</p><p>Despite Renjun’s absence from the small abode it quickly became clear to him that it didn’t go unfrequented. As Renjun scanned his familiar platform, his eyes caught over a stark pile of white and yellow, settled closely to the tree so as to avoid being swept away. The small boy approached it, a tentative smile playing over his lips as he scooped a few hard candies wrapped in plastic into his palm. He settled onto his usual spot, feet kicked over the edge and lemon treats cradled to his chest.</p><p>The sun was higher in the sky than it had been on his previous visit, providing little warmth to his wind bitten and rosy nose as he burrowed into the jacket engulfing him. It smelled of cherries and soft detergent and Renjun laughed slightly. He’d grabbed it on his hurry out as it rested over his closet doorknob and he found himself grateful. The unfamiliar smell had no affiliation of the pain he faced at home, proposing only new opportunities of friendship.</p><p>Renjun settled his cracked hands onto his thighs, spilling the candies onto his lap and pulling at one. He slowly unwrapped the treat, the crinkle ringing loudly into the silence of winter, and placed the citrus candy onto his tongue. The sour taste tickled his nose and tears sprung to his dark eyes. Renjun grinned widely as his head ached with the tang and he stared past his feet, onto the floor below, and studied the purple flowers, standing stark and proud against the dreary background of winter.</p><p>Renjun stuck his hands into the pockets of the jacket, planning to discard his wrapper there for later removal, only to discover an array of empty wrappers piled in the slots. He giggled to himself and rolled his eyes. What a mess Jaemin seemed to be, never disposing of his trash.</p><p>He returned his eyes down, mind drifting elsewhere as he sucked the disappearing candy and clenched his hands in the trash infested pockets. Renjun found himself dawdling over the sudden departure from China that had taken place in the years prior.</p><p>His mother had gripped his hand; they’d been packing for the mere couple of days that followed a routine spree of shouts, though unusually frantic for what Renjun had grown accustomed, before he had found himself being shaken awake, pulled down a staircase behind his mother. Her head never turned back to glance upon the small boy babbling with fatigue as they hurried across the streets, coated in white and hushed in the dusk of early morning. His father walked briskly beside her; ignoring the boy who trailed after them, feet dragging and arm aching from the constant pull; and spoke in hushed tones to the small woman. Their heads lowered together and Renjun had studied their stress stricken faces.</p><p>Renjun found himself purposefully ignoring the hunched form that lazed along behind him, eyes cast downward and scowl painted across the shadowed features. He found that he did such often while he was present; pushing his thoughts away from the boy whom he’d grown to dislike and acting as if his existence wasn’t a constant tick against his nerves. His brother’s face was cut and yellow bruised his skin, though it had begun to heal from the few days that had passed between then and the initial “mishap”, as his mother had described it.</p><p>Renjun had found himself quizzically studying his mother’s hand as she dragged him along. It shook, though ever so slightly and nearly unnoticeably, and the boy wondered at it as the grip was filled with an unusual sweat. He remembered his feet stumbling and the complete ignorance his parents held to him as he struggled along, the utterances remaining frantic and laced with sharp tones that sliced the tension and drifted to the small boy.</p><p>The days that followed did little to abate his exhaustion, the sun had never seemed to set and he could barely keep his eyes cracked in the unfamiliar areas. To Renjun, they’d seemed to chase the daylight, boarding multiple flights where he sat protected between the two adults, incapable of grasping the edges of sleep that tore at him with the consistent thrum of the aircraft. By the time the sun had set over the new horizon, yellows spilling over him similarly as it did at home, he found himself in a small room, shared between the four, and hunger clenched his stomach.</p><p>He never experienced the similar yellows of Jilin’s sunset again. He never experienced home again.</p><p>He supposed many moments had passed of his studying the calm floor; countless lemon candy wrappers joining the flavors of cherry and grape piled in his pockets, sugar clinging to his molars and coating his mouth; when he was startled from a daze at the warmth that suddenly appeared beside him.</p><p>He glanced toward the presence with a shocked expression, slightly bemused, greeted by slanted eyes and a toothy beam.</p><p>“Been a while, crocodile,” Jaemin’s grin grew wider as he spoke, if possible.</p><p>Renjun grunted, “Nice one,” he laughed, returning his eyes to the pretty flowers. It was as if he was waiting for them to wither and die, just as most things had done in the winter weather, as if he could see it occur suddenly right before his eyes.</p><p>“Asters.”</p><p>Renjun turned his head to the side suddenly. Jaemin was studying him; his constant smile remained, though tamed quite a bit. Renjun worried his lip in confusion.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” he asked, tilting his head and releasing the gnawed lip as his forehead scrunched in its replacement.</p><p>“The flowers, dummy,” Jaemin reiterated, his smile growing as Renjun balked at the insult and he nodded in the direction that had held Renjun’s gaze, “they’re called asters.” Renjun returned his eyes to the hardy little patch; the thin petals weighed slightly with the wet of mostly melted snow. “Though it’s surprising they’re still around. They start to blossom in the fall but still, they usually die off in winter –or rather become dormant, I guess.”</p><p>“Right,” Renjun said. He glanced over the shade similar to lilac, the petals soft and dark in the wet of winter. He noticed the few that peered out, brown and stick-like, supposing such were dormant as Jaemin had mentioned they’d more commonly be. The conversation ebbed away from the flowers, flowing to the return of school. To the discovery that, although Jaemin was months younger than Renjun, they’d be in the same grade. Renjun found that, as Jaemin whined, he hated the idea of appearing midyear, even if he was familiar still with the many students he’d grown up with.</p><p>Renjun learned of Jaemin’s vast knowledge of many flowers, not simply of the purple-blue asters that scattered below. He listed off the plants that surrounded them with a grin towards Renjun’s wide eyes, pointing out even the vines that crawled over the platform. He spoke of his mother being a botanist, having grilled him with knowledge. Jaemin called it useless, Renjun called it wonderful.</p><p>Renjun discovered he had an ever growing interest in the wind; how it blew, how it moved with effortless ease and intangible beauty, never shedding a single care for what stood in its path. Renjun supposed something of science, though he didn’t say so. The boy beside him had sighed with wonder, eyes glazed towards the leaves that bristled with Jaemin’s subject of fascination, and he instead mused with Jaemin over its carefree ability to flow as water and honey.</p><p>Renjun thought maybe pools of honey were molten drops of the stars, harnessed to expel golden warmth onto all who needed such. Jaemin shot him down with a grin.</p><p>“Honey isn’t made of plasma, and the stars are,” Jaemin had said with amusement, staring at Renjun as if what he’d said was ridiculous. Renjun found himself consistently shocked by the younger boy’s surplus of knowledge; he was a gift expelling endless surprises.</p><p>He hit his arm teasingly, shrinking into himself, “It was just a thought, jerk,” Renjun stated, staring up at the blinding light. He’d liked the idea; that he could hold bits of the stars in his hands, sticky and sweet. Maybe they’d by rough like grains of sugar.</p><p>“I think the sun and stars would taste spicy,” Jaemin spoke from beside him; his tone light, though smaller from the teasing phrases he’d stated prior. Renjun turned to him suddenly, surveying the smiley face. He was once more taken aback at Jaemin’s engagement in Renjun’s pondering, no longer dismissive of his thoughts but instead encouraging the wondrous topic.</p><p>“I think sweet.”</p><p>Jaemin quirked a brow at him with a soft giggle, “like honey,” he stated. Renjun nodded. Jaemin hadn’t phrased it as a question, was simply connecting it to the elder’s prior statement on the gloppy amber nectar, though Renjun felt the urge to answer the boy.</p><p>“Like honey.”</p><p>“And the sky would taste of blueberries,” there was a smile in the other’s voice as Renjun glanced away, up to the pale gray sky. Renjun disagreed. The sky tasted of ash. It tasted of lukewarm milk left sitting on the table for too long and of leftover rice, dry and hard from a night in the fridge. The sky was harsh and glowering, tasting as bland as it appeared. Tasting as bland as Renjun felt when he looked up to it through the harshest months of the year.</p><p>Renjun didn’t voice his thoughts, simply turned to the boy beside him and smiled. He hoped it’d appear as one of agreement, hoped it didn’t look as uncomfortably forced as it felt.</p><p>Jaemin continued on, unfazed by Renjun’s tight-lipped smile and bouncing with his surplus of energy.</p><p>“My mom’s ruined the trees for me, though,” he stated with a scrunch of his nose, “they don’t taste like sour apples or mint ice cream like you’d think. She grows them in our garden and puts them on a lot of our food and they’re <em>horrible</em>. It’s like eating a bitter paste. I hate bitter things,” Jaemin was frowning, distaste evident on his face.</p><p>Renjun smirked as he thought of basil and parsley garnishes. “You mean she garnishes herbs?” Renjun mused to the other boy.</p><p>“Sure, all I know is it tastes bad. Bad, as in like purple lettuce <em>bad</em>,” Jaemin’s nose remained scrunched as he shook his head, images of horror and leaves flitting through his mind.</p><p>“I happen to like purple lettuce.”</p><p>“Well you’re <em>weird</em>,” it was clear to Renjun that when Jaemin was passionate about a topic he emphasized his words drastically, “my mom would like you a lot more than she does me.”</p><p>“Everyone would like me more than they do you,” Renjun earned a grin from Jaemin at his pry as the boy knocked against his shoulder with the tease.</p><p>Renjun had found that day on the small platform that, although he found Jaemin to be obnoxiously outgoing (to the point that he was near annoyed enough to shove him from the treehouse) and incredibly grabby toward the elder’s arms, the boy’s conversation was tantalizing. He shoved every bit of himself within each topic he ranted of, excitement lacing his eyes and a smile playing over his lips as he spoke with unwavering wonder and innocent eagerness.</p><p>The sun was melting into the snow, dipping below the trees and casting the shadows of naked branches over the marveling eyes of the two boys before their time together began to draw to a close.</p><p>“Dinner time,” Jaemin stated suddenly as he rose to his feet, offering a hand to the boy who remained seated, staring up to him with widened eyes.</p><p>“Dinner time?” he wondered aloud, looking to the sinking light and back toward the extended hand, “How can you tell?”</p><p>“We always eat dinner just as it gets dark. It’s probably about five, I think,” Jaemin turned and studied the darkening sky, “So, it’s time for dinner. And my mom will have a cow if I’m not back in time.”</p><p>Renjun nodded, wondering to his own mother. He doubted she’d noticed his absence, despite the many hours that’d passed spent with the brown haired boy. Grasping the hand of the boy standing over him, finding it to be warm from its prior position clenched in his pocket, he hauled himself to his feet, finding the other to be slightly taller than him. Renjun had assumed the opposite, Jaemin’s bad posture as he kicked his feet off the edge having removed inches from his seated form.</p><p>Jaemin’s mouth split at the development, “I assumed your age made you taller,” Jaemin giggled and Renjun scowled and brushed past him to the ladder.</p><p>“Don’t be obnoxious,” he rolled his eyes and Jaemin continued to chuckle.</p><p>The boys split ways and Renjun stared to the sky. Orange and yellow peaked over the horizon through the trees, the gray sky of ash blooming to the taste of peaches with the stroke of the sun. Renjun found the weary weight that coated his mind and pushed against his shoulders had dissipated, relieved by the warmth of friendship and laughter and soothed by presence of lemon candies and the scent of cherry breath.</p><p>Just as the sun transformed the sky, Renjun flourished with his own star.</p><p> </p><p>iii.</p><p>Renjun’s brother was a hurricane, shining brightly in the calm before giving way to winds so jarring and a downpour so torrential it destroyed all in its path. Interacting with him was like sleeping in the same room as an infant; the rustle of twists and turns within its restless sleep that wrenched drowsiness away for fear it had been awoken, tip-toeing past so as not to startle it to a tantrum.</p><p>The tentative fear only made the inevitable outburst all the more worse.</p><p>Renjun was perched at the marble countertop, a pen and drawing pad resting before him as he shoveled cereal into his mouth. His foot was tucked below him, the other shoved onto the bar of the stool as he hunched forward. The crisp white of the soft paper was marred with the stark black outlines of a small Japanese character, drawn repeatedly with an utmost care and practiced precision.</p><p>Renjun’s parents had left, teeming with early morning energy to drive into town and gather supplies from grocers for the upcoming week of school. Renjun had woken rather early compared to the routine of which he’d grown accustomed, eyes of the light sleeper fluttering open with the groan of a car as it pulled away. He’d ventured into the empty kitchen with a yawn and sat alone beside a bowl of cereal, the cardboard box having been left discarded and open on the marble after he’d poured it sloppily into the ceramic. Renjun brought his pen to dance over the pad of paper in continued doodles as he slowly ate.</p><p>He’d long since finished whatever homework had been assigned in the week prior, his weekend spent studiously slumped at his desk before he’d finally found he could rest to draw with the spare Sunday. His mouth tickled with a grin as the cool of milk and coating of sugar soothed over his tongue, his teeth crunching with the wheat charms. It was comfortable, the brisk morning, as he relaxed in his solitude, the quietude of the sleeping home relaxed in comparison to the frazzled anger that it had grown accustomed to withholding.</p><p>He sat in silence for quite a while, listened to the hum of the heating click on in the cool of the early morning, spring having barely begun to bloom, as he sipped the bowl of milk. The liquid, made sugary by the soaked cereal, dribbled down his chin slightly and he swiped it away, giggles erupting from the mess. With the clang of the bowl as he set it onto the hard countertop, the spoon clinking from inside, a door opened to his left and Renjun startled slightly. He flicked his eyes to the side before he lowered his gaze to the doodles once more.</p><p>“Good morning,” a mumble came from beside him and the boy smiled tightly, a nod seizing his head. Renjun’s shoulders were drawn tight behind him, his posture cowering and tense in an attempt to coil inward and away from the elder.</p><p>Renjun’s brother made his way around the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of the charms Renjun had left abandoned. He forced a scowl from his face as he watched, the charms were his. His mouth remained shut for fear that he’d provoke him, the claim that he couldn’t have what wasn’t his unrealistic to the selfish elder.</p><p>“What’re you doing,” Renjun lifted his head slightly and made eye contact with the curious eyes before him. He’d grown accustomed to the eyes being filled with anger, bitter with hatred and revolt toward the younger, but instead found them almost smiling.</p><p>Renjun’s head tilted slightly before he glanced once more to the pad before him. His flexed his hands around the pen, moisture coating them as he spun the stencil in his grip. His stomach was flipped with unease, his head distraught with an emotion holding similarity to anger at his sibling’s sudden appearance –his sudden interest in the younger.</p><p>“Drawing,” Renjun stated, pulling the pad forward slightly before scooping his bowl into his arms and standing. “I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbled, placing his dishes away and offering his seat to the elder. He felt out of place as his brother dropped down, fiddling slightly and unsure how to react to the unusual mood that surrounded the other. He went to reach across the sink, the counter opening to a wide expanse across to accommodate the bar, to snatch the drawing pad, flinching as a hand dropped onto it and studied the small doodles intently. A smirk danced across the hurricane’s face.</p><p>“You’re such a baby.”</p><p>Renjun started and furrowed his brows, turning to face the mocking expression, “What?”</p><p>His brother remained with his eyes trained over the black lines, not looking at him, and smudged a finger over the outline, undried gel streaking slightly. He shifted his head over his shoulders, gazing intently at the smear that marred the precise cartoons with a flippant grin. Renjun’s nose scrunched in a sneer that disappeared soon after it seized his features.</p><p>“I said you’re like a toddler. You won’t grow up, always drawing stupid characters.”</p><p>At his words, the younger frowned. To Renjun, his admiration for the big white character held no relevancy over his age or maturity; it was simply something that captured his attention and sparked happiness in him. He ticked with the subtle pry at his interests. He couldn’t understand why the elder had felt the need to mock him, couldn’t understand what was wrong with being interested in little cartoons and what was so childish about such.</p><p>Renjun shrank away. His brother; well past the age of adulthood and continuously leeching off his parents, providing nothing and taking everything from the family, incapable of any form of responsibility for his actions; was calling him childish. He fumed with embarrassment at the accusation.</p><p>He shifted on his feet, his fingers tugging continuously on the book the elder rested his elbow on, a glint of mirth emerging in his upturned gaze. Renjun was upset, his eyes stinging with harsh emotion and pushing his appendages to shake with the other’s degradation.</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” he muttered furiously, his mind whirring and blood rushing through his ears as he fumed, wrenching the pad from the heavy palm and turning to leave.</p><p>“What?” Renjun flinched, the tone sharp and splicing through him. He shook slightly with fear and fury before he turned abruptly, nearly teetering with the sudden movement as the world spun, to face the nightmare of a storm brewing.</p><p>The young man who remained seated on the barstool, his brow arched with a furrow and his crooked teeth glinting slightly with the sneer that tore his lips apart, glared back toward the frail child. Renjun studied the dark that hooded his eyes, black with the wide expanse his pupils had blown to cover. He seemed to broil with heated energy, his face clouded as a storm and anger rolling in waves toward the shaking boy before him. The small boy ground his weight into his heels as the expression struck him, narrowing his eyes with the hatred that instilled in his gut to butt away the incessant panic.</p><p>“I said ‘you’re one to talk,’ asshole!” Renjun shouted. His vision flashing red with frustration, he chucked the heavy drawing pad toward his brother, skimming the ceramic bowl settled on the counter and knocking it to the floor. The shock of the shatter over the floorboards reverberated through the house. The milk, almost blue in the darkness that hung over the house, dripped into the cracks of the floorboards and slicked over the ground, around sock clad feet of the elder and oozing slowly beneath the stool he remained balanced on.</p><p>Renjun’s eyes widened at his action. He quickly stumbled backward and his eyes stung with fear. Renjun stood frozen, mind flashing to the emptied house as his brother lurched forward. He was unsure as to what had possessed him to provoke his brother after countless years of trained, hesitant interaction. The world, to Renjun, seemed to slow. White noise screamed through his ears and his stomach dropped, a yelp catching in his throat.</p><p>The calm before the storm had dissipated.</p><p>Renjun had seen plenty of his brother’s outbursts, had turned away from the image of his father pinning his own son beneath him, flailing violently with clenched fists and a snarl of disgust against the man who raised him. He’d listened to him shouts directed toward the shaking woman to dial the police. He had twisted the lock on his bedroom door and crouched in his closet more times than he could remember. He had plugged his ears to the cries of his mother and the blaring of sirens countless amounts on nights when he should’ve been resting for school. It had become routine and normal to him, nearly easy.</p><p>Never in his life had his brother’s violence been directed toward him.</p><p>The elder boy approached slowly –at least, to Renjun, he appeared to move slowly, his hands clenched and the short boy dizzied with dread at the harrowing approach. Renjun stood still, his eyes wide and his hands grasping the edges of his thin shirt, and tried to tear his vision away from the storm that verged on –to no avail.</p><p>Renjun felt the blossoming of agony before he’d registered what had happened. A heavy pressure upon his shoulder bloomed with an ache of pain as he stumbled backward from the force, his socked feet slipping from beneath him as he felt his heart lurch. A splitting throb vibrated through his tailbone with the impact and he shook, fear coursing through him and adrenaline wracking his horrified frame as he crushed himself into the floor. His head flew back with the force from which he had crashed to the ground, a pinch of searing agony seizing him and stabbing into his neck.</p><p>Renjun felt separated from his body, a simple bystander to the assault of pain attacking his figure as he remained suspended in time.</p><p>He’d never felt a throbbing quite as the one that tormented his frail frame, the gnawing of freshly formed bruises spilling over his body with the ache of the fall and he was vaguely aware of the tickle that trailed over his neck. His head spun and his stomach churned, threatening to spill over. He squeezed his eyes closed and flinched into himself, fearing a blow or the thud of a kick to his stomach as he curled inward and clenched his hands tightly together over his chest.</p><p>Renjun had never felt a fear so jarring in his life.</p><p>His head pounded as he cradled himself, his eyes stinging and the skin of his face wet with the onslaught of horror that spilled from his tear ducts. The tile floor felt cool below his heated cheek, his aches pressed tightly against the smooth surface. The curled form remained unmoving, hands clenched around each other with a rattling shake. The child wondered over staying curled into the kitchen floor, the tempest that brewed overhead bound to retreat with the eventual decrease of thunderous booms.</p><p>When Renjun snapped himself from his daze he scrambled upward, fear of the danger that accompanied each hurricane sending him scurrying from the fuming air of the cyclone that loomed over him. His socks slipped over the wood panels and his heart thudded painfully, dizziness grasping the corners of his vision with black spots.</p><p>With the slam of his bedroom door and the click of the lock, Renjun slumped. Walking slowly toward the wide window, lock consistently undone, and pushed it up before he dropped to the soft green carpet below.</p><p>The early morning horizon was tinted a light blue, white clouds dusting over the endless ocean above with the slow approach of spring. The temperature had increased vastly over the past few weeks, though a chill still hung in the air as Renjun ventured toward the heavy wood. The happiness of the sky lied.</p><p>His feet were sock clad and void of runners as he scrambled through the underbrush. The trees had sprouted small buds of green, the shade fluorescent in the early days of newfound warmth, and Renjun flicked branches from his face as he rushed toward the familiar clearing.</p><p>As the wooden structure came into Renjun’s frantic view, as did the boy perched over the edge. A smile graced his features as he turned to look down on his friend with the bustle of branches as he careened through the underbrush. The treehouse had become their common ground; a thing they shared between just the two of them, kept secret from the different worlds each boy lived in.</p><p>Jaemin startled at Renjun’s frantic breathing and the skittish way his eyes hopped over his surroundings. He lifted his legs from where they dangled into the trees and pushed up, standing and glancing down more closely toward the boy, surveying his features as if he could read across them why he was panic-stricken.</p><p>“Renjun?” he called down, his voice soft and overflowing with tangible worry.</p><p>Renjun dropped to his knees.</p><p>His breathing was harsh, each inhale stinging his chest with a pinch as if impaled, and he grasped at his clothed torso. He bunched his hands in the fabric and pushed his chin into his chest, strands of black hair obscuring his face from view. Renjun settled his palms onto the soil as he fell forward. His stomach ached with the lack of oxygen, his mind distraught and legs worn-out from tearing through the foliage.</p><p>In a blink, though in Renjun’s harried state he may have been unable to tear his eyes open once more for many moments, Jaemin was before him. His brow was etched with worry and Renjun wanted to tell him to stop before he wrinkled. His mouth couldn’t move with the fatigue that wracked his body and he frowned.</p><p>Jaemin’s lips formed words and Renjun startled, shifting his gaze to focus on the face that was void of its usual beam and straining to focus on the words that flew through the air.</p><p>“-you okay? Your neck, Renjun! Did you fall?”</p><p>Renjun’s brow furrowed to match Jaemin’s confusion stricken expression. He lifted his palm to swipe across his neck. Crimson red kissed the pale skin of the seemingly foreign fingers that he held before his eyes. It had slicked the back of his neck, similar to the stick of sweat that marred his temples, and settled into the collar of his t-shirt.</p><p><em>Had</em> he fallen? Stumbled over a rock and slammed into the ground as he ventured to the familiar treehouse. Renjun strained to grasp his surroundings, recall how he’d stumbled into the clearing in the wake of the adrenaline rush. Fatigue ebbed at his memory and he shook his head to himself.</p><p>No. No, he hadn’t fallen.</p><p>His brother had pushed him.</p><p>Renjun’s tailbone ached with the memory and the older boy blinked hastily, the reverb of pain leaving his eyes to sting and he looked away, pushing the tears from glossing the surface and spilling. The forest was quiet, the trees seemingly holding their breath with the scene that unfolded –with the pain that plastered over the smaller’s face.</p><p>Renjun pondered over the truth before nodding to Jaemin. It was easier; to say a trip had landed the blow to his head against a log, not the kitchen floor –not the shove of his brother’s palm. Jaemin worried his lip and lifted Renjun from his knees, wrapping the injured boy’s arm over his shoulder as he hauled him forward.</p><p>“My mom and dad are home and we’ve got the first aid kit at home. Just lean onto me and try not to make yourself dizzy; you might have a concussion, y’know?” Jaemin’s rambling seemed to grow worse with his nerves, “I’ll explain everything to them and they can figure out what’s wrong. My dad’s actually got a little bit of medical training from the military, so it’ll be cool. You’ll be fine, and hey! If you do have a concussion, that makes for a mean story. You could say you got mauled by a bear or something!” Jaemin continued his frantic spiel as he struggled to carry Renjun’s weight, stepping forward and pushing up the soft incline of the woods, avoiding vines and logs that may have potentially tripped them if stepped on.</p><p>“You know, one time I fell from the monkey bars and cracked my head open. I had to get stitches and <em>everything</em>–or staples, whatever it was called. I got to leave school early when it happened which was cool but I had a headache for <em>days</em>.”</p><p>The pair continued on through the trunks of trees, Jaemin rambling with nerves as his shoulders slouched under Renjun’s little weight. Renjun’s vision was clear, though his mind bounced frantically over the surfaces of greenery, dizzying him as he lacked the ability to focus onto an object. The silence that surrounded the boys was comforting; the cover of solitude relaxing Renjun from the pounding rush of blood through his ears to the dull hum of Jaemin’s droll. The older boy felt his hands slacken from their rigid hold over the taller, his feet stumbling though retaining his balance as the initial response of ‘fight-or-flight’ that had emanated through him began to resolve and dissipate.</p><p>Renjun spotted an area where the trees began to disperse and the underbrush thinned and found his breathing came much easier, the pant of his breath slowing. A small house, painted a slate gray, entered Renjun’s vision and he felt Jaemin’s pace beside him quicken, making a beeline for the glass door within view.</p><p>They approached the backdoor, a small pathway leading through a garden of vegetables and flowers clearing the way directly for them, and Jaemin jiggled the doorknob frantically before he swung it open and shouted into the quaint rooms of the house.</p><p>“Dad!” his voice was unnerved; not as hysterical as he appeared, though notably upset.</p><p>The house remained silent for a moment and Renjun almost laughed, alarm spiraling him into a frenzy of worry toward his condition, unsure whether he truly was drastically injured. Padded footsteps resounded down a distant hall and Renjun glanced up once more, eyes searching the room.</p><p>A man appeared in a doorway before them, glancing toward the boys who stood beside the glass door of the dining room. A small pair of spectacles rested over the bridge of his nose and he furrowed his brows as he studied them over the lens. He surveyed the shaking pair and hummed in confusion, worry quickly weaving over his face.</p><p>“He fell and hit his head. I think he may be concussed and he’s bleeding,” the boy rushed out, nearly thrusting Renjun toward his dad. The elder boy grappled Jaemin’s panicked arms for balance as he teetered from the sudden shove. Jaemin looked apologetically down at him as Renjun swayed on his feet.</p><p>“Sit him down in your chair, Jaemin,” his father’s voice was demanding, a commanding tone that held the authority over the worked up boys so as to calm them. Jaemin did as told and his father quickly gathered supplies from a closet tucked away.</p><p>Renjun’s lids were heavy and he did as the man before him told, dazed and unable to truly grasp the movements that surrounded him. He pondered over whether his parents had returned home, whether they’d truly even take note of his being gone. His mind was fuzzy and the tips of his vision remained dotted with black. A light was shone into his eyes that left sparks dancing across his vision as he followed the calloused finger of Jaemin’s father. He was vaguely aware of the perfume of a woman, a soft hand coaxing his back as he sat before the table.</p><p>He could hear the words Jaemin’s father spoke, whether to him or others he was left unsure, as the fatigue seemed to finally catch up to him, drawing him in and pushing him down.</p><p>“-not concussed, but I imagine the adrenaline rush he experienced has fully worn off and that’s why he’s experiencing drowsiness to this extent. Renjun must have been extremely scared when he fell.”</p><p>The words registered in Renjun’s brain and he blinked his eyes open as he felt a small hand rest upon his fists that shook slightly still. His stream of conscious returned as he looked to the boy seated before him, a smile lacing his lips that’s familiarity put Renjun to ease and cleared the fog of his brain. He studied the boy’s face with weary fatigue. His eyes flicked over the small ears hidden in his dark hair to the exuberated smile he wore as he outshone the stars in the night and he found that the room had been emptied once more, Jaemin’s parents nowhere Renjun could see.</p><p>“Hey,” Jaemin grinned, his eyes relaxed as though the moments prior had never occurred.</p><p>“Been a while, crocodile,” Renjun croaked and the younger boy choked out a loud laugh, bright smile growing.</p><p>“Do you have a number we should call? My parents wanted me to ask,” Jaemin elaborated as Renjun furrowed his brow and nodded. He spouted the digits to the boy before the other stood, grasping the sticky he’d recorded it on to pass to his parents. Renjun found himself lifting the pencil Jaemin had discarded, tracing the small Japanese character onto the vibrant paper.</p><p>Jaemin returned and glanced to the sketch before he let out a light gasp.</p><p>“Did you draw that?” the younger awed, cradling two white wrappers in his hand and thrusting them toward him as Renjun puzzled up to his standing figure. Gingerly, he lifted the lemon flavor and nodded. “That’s awesome!” excitement filled Jaemin’s tone as he marveled.</p><p>Renjun smiled, dropping the sour candy onto his tongue and glancing to the small doodle.</p><p>Drawing Moomin was no child’s play, at least that’s what Jaemin seemed to think.</p><p>And the boy with the cherry stained tongue seemed to hold the only opinion that mattered.</p><p> </p><p>iv.</p><p>Renjun had returned home with an excruciating fear, his eyes studying the empty area that lay just to the left of the stainless steel refrigerator. The tiles were clean and lacking any smudge of dark crimson that may have smeared across its surface in a scowl against the dark gray. Renjun wondered who’d cleaned it.</p><p>He slipped his borrowed shoes off carefully, bending to straighten them onto a rack before sticking his head out the cracked front door into the chilling evening air. Renjun shoved a hand out and waved the palm frantically toward the car that retreated from his short driveway. He laughed lightly as a window rolled down and a few appendages, similar in size to his own, wiggled a goodbye.</p><p>Renjun watched until the car made a right turn, disappearing from sight with the dense growth of trees and scattering of houses along the street. The boy continued to glance to the outdoor world, the cool air stroking his skin and settling in a comfort over his lungs. The world smelled crisp, pollen beginning to blossom into the air and sprouts lacing over branches in shocks of neon. Spring was pulling forward.</p><p>The approach of footsteps behind him forced him to straighten and turn, eyes wide and heart beating rapidly in anxiety. The short form of his mother glowered down at him as he felt his chest loosen slightly. He glanced behind her and found no form other than his father’s, relief striking him with the monster’s absence.</p><p>“How could you go in the woods without telling anyone? And especially when we weren’t home,” the woman spewed quickly, her brow knitted together as she crouched slightly before the boy. Her tone was sharp and harsh, disbelief at the actions of her youngest coating them, “Did you expect not to get hurt? What if that boy hadn’t been there, or his parents not home?”</p><p>“You made me look a bad parent,” Renjun scowled at her words. He knew she didn’t mean to come off as cold and uncaring, knew she was distraught with the idea of her child harmed, but Renjun couldn’t help but feel the stifling blow the words inflicted over him. She cared solely for her image, not that her son was well.</p><p>“You shouldn’t be so careless, Renjun,” the man spoke from behind the woman, “tripping over yourself. If you go back out there, you’d be wise to walk. Hitting your head is no little thing,” the woman turned abruptly with the man’s words.</p><p>“He won’t be going back,” her words sliced toward him, anger evident over her features. Renjun mouth twisted in disbelief. “You’re not suggesting that after he was so careless as to nearly get a concussion –hitting hard enough to crack his head open –that he be allowed back in the woods alone?”</p><p>The woman’s husband sighed and closed his eyes, “No, I suppose not.”</p><p>Renjun gazed at them with incredulity as they fought right before him, his father’s expression resigned as the woman spoke harshly. Renjun was bemused with their anger toward each other, one seemingly set against the other as opposed to confronting the recklessness of their son as a pair –as parents. To Renjun, their actions were almost negligent, uncaring for his wellbeing but rather wanting to prove better than the other.</p><p>The young boy furrowed his brows and picked the skin beside his thumbnail, discomfort lacing his figure as he shifted before his kneeling mother who glared upward at the cringing man. He’d never seen his parents quite so dead set against one another.</p><p>“I’d like to go to bed, I think,” Renjun whispered, glancing away from the display as his mother’s gaze flitted to his upset expression.</p><p>“You won’t be going back into the woods for whatever reason, understood?” her voice was fierce and demanding. Renjun clashed his eyes against her, allowing his temperament to rise.</p><p>“I will,” he stated and a sneer seized his mother. Renjun stepped forward before a hand grasped his elbow.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>Renjun flinched with the acid that soaked the words, searing through him as he frowned and scrunched his nose slightly, “I will still go in the woods,” he reiterated and the woman’s eyes flashed.</p><p>“You will not,” her grip tightened and Renjun squirmed away, a large hand settled over the death grip of the woman. The man spoke a name in warning and the grip slackened slightly.</p><p>“Don’t hurt the boy,” the voice warned.</p><p>Renjun wrenched his elbow and looked to the woman that crouched before him. Her gaze seemed fogged, her eyes scanning the child’s face as he frowned at her. Her hair was in disarray, tidbits muddled and pulled from the bun that hung limply over the nape of her neck. She appeared tired –relenting. Renjun’s expression lost its severity, the frown that pulled the corners of his lips and played over the dimple in his cheek softening in the slightest.</p><p>A door clicked from the hallway and Renjun ranked his eyes away, resting them over the foot that stepped toward the three that huddled before the ajar front door. The boy tensed and he ducked head, stepping away from the figure.</p><p>Darkness unfurled through the foyer and settled heavily into Renjun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. metanoia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>renjun learns he must push past his fears.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is actually finished and I'm just revising it and then posting so.. it'll be completed like... tomorrow..</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>v.</p><p>Talking to people, Renjun found, began to grow hard.</p><p>With the addition of inches over his head and seasons under his belt, Renjun found the hesitation that plagued his home had begun to follow him past the thorns of his roses and onto the beige sidewalks of his path to school. His social interaction dwindled with those he didn’t already know, a simple raised hand in class sending his heart pounding and vision whirling.</p><p>The blunt confidence of Renjun’s youth had entirely dissipated with the heightened tension in his household, the fear of his brother translating to an oppressing fear of others. Renjun thought himself ridiculous; tried his best to ignore the debilitating condition, to play it off as disinterest and act the part a lone-wolf, but only sank further into his anxiety with the passing shouts that constantly infiltrated the walls of his room. His only refuge a rotting treehouse and a pile of lemon candies.</p><p>Whereas Renjun sank further into himself with age, Jaemin seemed to burst from his shell. The boy with the hearty laugh and smiley nature flourished in extroversion beside Renjun’s sinking persona.</p><p>Jaemin had bloomed as the flowers his mother cultivated in her gardens, his height surpassing Renjun’s significantly and face thinning, and Renjun had been prematurely stunted. Gangly limbs accentuating the scrawny form of his body lasted mere months for Jaemin before the shining boy grew into himself, Renjun remaining thin with the stress that wracked him.</p><p>Renjun found himself in constant fear of harming the other –of burdening Jaemin with the unhappiness that settled over him. Renjun thought Jaemin underserving of the consistent complaints and fears the younger bestowed over him. Renjun thought himself undeserving of the comfort he received in response to his frequent anxiety attacks.</p><p>Renjun found he began to drawn into himself in school, his little height pulled further with the slouch of his shoulders and duck of his head. He dodged classmates and ignored inquiries of his name in hopes to lessen the anxiety that tormented his frame.</p><p>Although, not all social interaction could be as easily avoided as he had hoped.</p><p>The first day of the tenth grade found Renjun seated in an unfamiliar classroom. He had purposefully chosen a seat situated nearer to the front, an area very few chose to occupy, with the hope that he’d remain unbothered. Nerves ticked his jaw as he waited for the bell to ring, pleading the seat beside him remain unoccupied and allow the year to pass with the smooth relief of solitude.</p><p>His prayers immediately went unanswered.</p><p>A boy, slightly taller than Renjun with a mop of black hair, heaved himself onto the chair and flung his backpack off, dropping it to the floor. Renjun nearly scowled as the boy leaned back, his chest rising heavily as he wrenched in large gasps of air. Renjun eyed him from his peripheral, glancing over his slouched position and shut eyes. He was distinctly Asian, his face structure similar to Renjun’s as he leaned forward once more. Renjun flicked his eyes away when the boy turned toward him.</p><p>The boy seemed to openly study him, curious gaze holding a similar curiosity to Renjun’s just moments before. He quirked his head and a smile pulled across his face before he began to speak to the boy with his head in his hands.</p><p>“Hi, I’m Chenle,” his voice was higher, similar to Renjun’s own, and he smiled toward the boy.</p><p>Renjun stifled a groan as he glanced over.</p><p>“Renjun,” he stated before turning to the empty front of the classroom. He schooled his expression into indifference, oozing cold into his tone in hopes to fend off the boy. Instead he simply nodded and remained turned toward him, the smile still playing across his lips.</p><p>“I’m actually a freshman,” he had stated and Renjun flicked his eyes towards him once more, eyebrow raised in feigned interest. He found that he really just wanted to be left unbothered.</p><p>“I’m glad,” Renjun stated. His tone was clipped with bluffed annoyance as he retained the eye contact of the younger. Still, his smile didn’t falter; the sarcasm and clear disinterest passing through him.</p><p>“I actually had to run here from across the school, I never thought my schedule would be <em>physically grueling</em>,” Chenle groaned, throwing a hand over his forehead for dramatics and Renjun’s brow quirked further. His stomach lurched slightly as the younger grasped his arm suddenly, the blood draining from his face as his heart hammered in response to the sudden touch. The boy seemed to immediately register Renjun’s discomfort as he dropped the arm and widened his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was rude, I’m sorry,” he stammered and Renjun shook his head slightly, the fear ebbing away.</p><p>Class began and Renjun dipped his gaze away from Chenle’s apologetic and probing stare.</p><p>Renjun had found that physical contact –albeit sudden and with those unfamiliar to him –worsened his nerves and ticked his temperament. He’d never had a touchy disposition, not since he was a child, but the darkness and anxiety that vexed him furthered his discomfort with the contact and Renjun found himself consistently avoiding any situations that entailed such.</p><p>When Renjun returned to the treehouse that afternoon, having dropped his bags into his room before setting out once more, he sat against the trunk of the large oak, a sketch pad in his lap and charcoals spread across the water stained platform, and a croak of the latter had alerted him to the presence that climbed onto the wood planks. Renjun didn’t raise his head from the charcoal piece, studying the jade beetle that lounged over the scattered leaves before flicking his wrist and sketching across the cream paper.</p><p>Renjun had returned to the quiet abode in search of putting his restless mind at ease. He’d wondered over the guilt that haunted him with his inability to accept the boy’s, Chenle, pursuit to the elder. His stomach continuously flipped with the interaction that replayed in his mind, fear enticing him into harmful thoughts that expelled a void of darkness over him. Renjun pushed the thoughts away with the company that rested beside him.</p><p>“Hey, Picasso,” Jaemin’s voice was lower, his one imperfection being the consistent cracks that accompanied puberty as it adjusted in pitch.</p><p>“I prefer da Vinci and you know it.”</p><p>“But you’re not as talented,” Renjun could hear the amusement in his voice and rolled his eyes, settling the pencil beside him. He glanced to the younger through the bangs strewn over his forehead.</p><p>“Careful now, you say that and someone might think you’re insulting Picasso.”</p><p>“Well he’s no da Vinci, now is he?” Renjun scoffed at Jaemin and shook his head in amusement. Jaemin reached into his pocket and pulled a crinkling wrapper from within, popping the red candy onto his already stained tongue.</p><p>Renjun turned back to the drawing, smudging the light refractions into the picture. The stifling heat that accompanied summer heightened as Jaemin flumped beside him and Renjun groaned, shifting away from the other’s body heat. Jaemin only chuckled and scooched after the retreating boy.</p><p>“It is way too hot for you to touchy and you’re fully aware of that too,” Renjun moaned, leaning his upper body away from the warmth radiating from the other’s proximity. A puff of cherry scented air mussed Renjun’s hair and he thrust his drawing onto the ground and turned to a pouting Jaemin. “Can I help you?” sarcasm laced his voice and the other grinned, his eyes squinting with joy as the afternoon sun played golden over his features.</p><p>“Do you notice anything different?” Renjun puzzled at the other’s statement, registering the usual attention deprivation that plagued the boy as a cause to his neediness. His eyes raked over the other’s face, his outfit, and finally to his hair. It was a light chestnut color, drastically different from the ink black shade he’d most recently had.</p><p>“Can’t say I do,” Renjun grinned, wrenching his eyes back to the unamused boy’s.</p><p>“You sure?” Jaemin shook his hair out dramatically; looking down to his lap and shoving his head close to Renjun’s as the other grimaced, leaning backward as the thick strands tickled his cheek and the light smell of shampoo drifted to him.</p><p>“Please refrain from shoving your lice infested, damaged hair up my nose,” Renjun scowled, shoving a hand against Jaemin’s crown to push him further from him.</p><p>“So you did notice that I lightened it!” the boy grinned cheekily, running his hands through the light brown color and fixing it away from his forehead.</p><p>“You did? I thought it naturally looked like crap,” Renjun quirked a brow at Jaemin’s answering glare.</p><p>“It looks wonderful and you’re just mad you couldn’t pull it off.”</p><p>Renjun’s quirked his brow upward. “Oh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jaemin turned away with a pout, shifting backward to place space between the two.</p><p>“Oh, thank heavens. I should insult you more often if it means you’ll be more considerate for personal space,” Renjun jokingly swiped at his brow, side eyeing Jaemin with a smirk as the boy glowered at him.</p><p>“Kick me when I’m down, why don’t you?” Jaemin murmured and Renjun barked a laugh. The older boy picked his drawing up once more and began to eye his sketch, the smudge of charcoal blackening the ivory of his hands. He felt Jaemin shift closer, back into the spot he had originally been curled into, and rested his head onto the elder’s shoulder, gazing down to view what held Renjun’s focus.</p><p>Jaemin murmured praise into Renjun’s shoulder quietly and the boy smiled, eyes remaining over the jade bug that had been suspended into a world of ashen tones.</p><p>A light breeze brushed the younger’s newly dyed hair to tickle across Renjun’s neck and he turned his chin down, glancing toward the affectionate boy nestled into his side with a sigh.</p><p>“Hey, Jaemin,” Renjun painted a scowl across his face as the other shifted his eyes upward. “My mom invited you to dinner.”</p><p>Jaemin’s brows furrowed and his head rose from Renjun’s shoulder. The black haired boy leaned backward to place distance between them. “Why’d she do that?” he wondered aloud.</p><p>“I told her you were alone all week.”</p><p>“Why? I don’t want to be a burden, Renjun, you know that. Besides, I’m very capable of cooking for myself,” Jaemin scanned Renjun’s scowl with downturned lips.</p><p>It upset Renjun to hear the former refer to himself as such, his consistent reassurance and comfort to the elder providing much more than Renjun felt he deserved –more than he felt he could return. Renjun was sure he’d hurt Jaemin’s carefree ability to smile and radiate consistent joy –that the insecurities the elder bestowed over him would affect he, himself. Renjun couldn’t bear the thought that Jaemin wouldn’t retain his relentless happiness.</p><p>“You won’t be. And hey, I’m not the one who invited you so- don’t blame me,” Renjun laughed, raising his hands in an act of surrender before continuing, “Plus, with your taste buds you’ll likely clog an artery dumping salt on everything if you’re left to your own devices,” Jaemin sneered at Renjun’s giggle.</p><p>“It’s not my fault my mother fed me purple lettuce and it completely numbed my taste buds. She ruined me, I never thought I’d grow to like bitter foods and it’s horrifying.”</p><p>“Explains why you drink pure caffeine. And put so much cilantro on ramen.”</p><p>“My coffee order is a much needed necessity and you cannot change my mind.”</p><p>“You’re disgusting.”</p><p>Jaemin hesitated before he pierced his gaze into Renjun’s, his tone suddenly weighed with heaviness, “And you’re sure you’re okay with it –my coming over? I know there are things you’d like to keep to yourself…” Jaemin trailed off, suddenly flickering his eyes away for fear he’d upset Renjun. The topic of Renjun’s family had presented itself to the two boys in situations prior, times when Renjun arrived at the sanctuary shaking and his breath stolen in sobs. He’d told Jaemin of his parents’ absence; their minds continuously elsewhere, shoving Renjun to fend for himself. He’d told him of the anxiety that accompanied normal interaction, and of the loneliness he felt when he entered his own house. He had opened his heart to the boy that smiled at him with the force of the stars galaxies away, and he’d felt the flood of relief that accompanied honesty. Though, still, important details remained unshared between the boys, ones that Jaemin feared if pushed for would send Renjun spiraling.</p><p>Renjun offered Jaemin a small smile, “I know, Jaemin,” he replied simply and shrugged. He’d worried his lip at the thought countless amounts since his mom had offered; fearing an outburst from the brother Jaemin hadn’t even been told he <em>had</em>. But Renjun knew that Jaemin didn’t do well on his own either. He wouldn’t leave him to the same excruciating isolation Renjun lived in.</p><p>“Alright,” Jaemin’s smile returned and Renjun blinked.</p><p>Jaemin’s ability to immediately shift tones was something Renjun envied and despised. He was more similar to that of a game of Rush Hour, packed full of cars, than a human: unsolvable and filled with twists and turns, the epitome of fickle. The boy could turn the tone of his voice in a matter of seconds, his mind bouncing from one topic to the next, and he’d fill Renjun with a whiplash that he wasn’t sure was dreadful or pleasant. Though, Renjun never felt the need to stop the boy in his rampages.</p><p>“What exactly will she be making?” Jaemin voiced as Renjun remained silent, thoughts lost to the boy seated before him.</p><p>“What? Are you already trying to decipher whether you can add more salt or sugar to it?” Renjun mulled, a tease playing across his lips.</p><p>“No, just wondering since the guest is someone so special.”</p><p>“Pretty sure my grandfather is not resurrected and attending but it was a nice thought,” Jaemin rolled his eyes, although the smile remained adorning his face.<br/>
“I can’t believe you used your late grandfather for wit.”</p><p>“The things I do for you, Jaemin,” Renjun sighed in feigned exasperation.</p><p>“I do believe that was not done in any way to benefit me,” Jaemin quirked a brow at the older boy who sat before him, resting back on the palms he’d placed behind him.</p><p><br/>
“Just because it didn’t benefit you, doesn’t mean it wasn’t done<em> for</em> you. Did I not say it in response to something <em>you</em> said?”</p><p>Jaemin furrowed his brow as Renjun spoke in circles, “Semantics,” he concluded and Renjun chuckled quietly.</p><p>Renjun, however, still felt himself puzzle with the topic; his mother was never one to try excruciatingly hard to prepare meals, simply settling for something she could whip up with ease. She’d never been one to use prepackaged meals, preferring to start from scratch, but she’d still never enjoyed putting an excess effort into the preparation. Renjun had been startled when she’d explained the selection she’d create, an array of dishes settled before her across the kitchen counter.</p><p>“Steamed fish with ginger, I think,” Renjun stated, his brow furrowed as he looked to the foliage that unfolded above them, crystal blue peeking through.</p><p>“So, salt?”</p><p>Renjun lowered his eyes back to Jaemin’s crinkled expression and nodded lightly, “So, salt.”</p><p>As the sun had begun to sink below the trees, warmth shrouding the two figures in the golden glow of sunset, the boys ventured through the woods, passing through the well-trodden path of years spent scrambling to the treehouse. Despite the surplus of opportunities and years presented between the boys, Jaemin had never been to Renjun’s house. He’d stopped in front in the darkness of the early morning venture to school; had paused beside the thorny roses that Renjun liked to stroke a hand across as he passed, waiting for the older to drop his bags into his room before continuing to their clearing; and had driven Renjun home after countless sleepovers and dinners in the years prior. But he’d never set foot inside the tight entry space.</p><p>His feet brushed over the soft rug as he entered; situated just before the door, a pile of shoes nestled into the corner. Toeing off his shoes slowly, careful not to kick the clumps of dried mud that had encrusted over the months of adventures, he turned to an expectant Renjun. Renjun scanned the small face of the other, his expression unreadable, though notably curious. He had quirked his head as he studied the tentative younger and Jaemin smiled, straightening and raising his eyebrows at the black haired boy.</p><p>Renjun turned forward, padding over the hardwood floor and peering into the kitchen. Jaemin followed.</p><p>“Mom,” Renjun stated as he stared to a small woman; her shoulders hunched over a stove, a square window situated above that stared out into the dark shades of the forest, and black hair pulled lazily onto the nape of her neck. She turned and glanced to the young boys that stood before her, one wearing a smile that gleamed with excitement and the other a mouth curled with nerves.</p><p>“Renjun,” she replied, a soft smile pulling at her lips as she glanced to the taller, “you must be Jaemin.”</p><p>Jaemin nodded, his smile never faltered, “Yes ma’am.” The boy oozed with tangible kindness and warmth as he smiled to the woman and Renjun’s gaze turned tired. He had no doubt that, while Jaemin’s polite beam came with ease, his mind was flicking to the complaints a shaking boy had continuously uttered while comforted by a similar expression that held the intensity and solace of the celestial bodies above.</p><p>The truth was, at least in Renjun’s mind, his mother was never to blame for the situation that afflicted the household; he was simply frustrated with her blindness to the pain that harried the boy. She couldn’t notice her younger son, had to shove him aside to grow dependent solely on himself, her mind stolen by the ailments of her eldest. Renjun was simply frustrated with her selfish inability to prioritize the younger’s health over the elder’s anger.</p><p>And Renjun knew, though the thought did little to aid his frustration, his mother was unable to let go of the little boy she’d raised. While Renjun had grown knowing only his brother’s anger, seeing only the addiction and mental illness that forced his personality foul and sprung an easy hatred into his bones, Renjun’s mother had seen his happiness. She’d seen the curiosity of a little boy who loved dinosaurs and liked to catch frogs while the ground was stamped to mush after a spring rainfall. Renjun only felt numb to the boy who no longer studied butterflies.</p><p>And, in a way Renjun understood his brother as well. It was true that he thought him selfish and disgusting, undeserving of the forgiveness that was consistently bestowed upon him in the aftermath of each outburst, but mostly Renjun pitied the boy. He could see the bullying around him that had caved his brother to transform into such a monster at a similar age to Renjun’s own, unable to push against peer pressure and instead conforming to be what others wanted. He knew that the monster that his brother turned into was simply the creation of his own monsters that plagued his mind, mental illness and anger pushing him to act rashly. Though, still, despite his slow realization of the lack of control his brother held over his actions, it did little to null the hatred that bubbled in Renjun’s gut.</p><p>Renjun hated his brother’s lack of remorse even after the monsters dulled their roar within him and loosened their grip.</p><p>Jaemin pinched Renjun’s elbow and the boy turned his head up toward him, scanning across the expectant features and amused eyes. Jaemin cocked his head to the open doorway and Renjun turned his eyes to the woman, his mother had returned to the stovetop.</p><p>Renjun turned and headed from the small kitchen, his gaze resting over a familiar spot beside the refrigerator. His socked feet tread lightly down the thin hall, feeling Jaemin close behind. Frames were placed eye level on the wall, greeting Jaemin’s searching inspection as he studied each rather closely. He noticed the majority featured photographs of three, a small boy settled between Renjun’s mother and a man’s arms. He was similar to Renjun, face thin and eyes smiling, though notably a sibling. Jaemin stopped and tugged to the elder’s hand. Renjun glanced back, brow furrowed as his eyes settled over their joint hands before raising them to Jaemin’s questioning expression.</p><p>Jaemin lifted a pointed figure, placing it toward the small boy whose eyes remained joyful and unblinking in the frozen frame. Renjun studied it. His brow softened as his mouth drew into a pinched line, tugged closer to his left cheek.</p><p>“My brother.”</p><p>Jaemin’s face drew in further, expression remaining quizzical as Renjun turned away tersely. His hand was tugged toward the boy who pulled him further down the hall and Jaemin followed the raven haired boy into the closed doorway of a small room.</p><p>Renjun settled his weight onto the slim ledge of his unlocked window, the size merely enough for a small pot to rest and the boy pushed into the glass, his feet planted on the carpeted floor to keep balance. He watched Jaemin survey the small room. The boy walked toward the small bookshelf, skimming his hand along a few spines before turning to walk toward the desk pushed against the wall. He toyed with the cup filled with mechanical pencils, shaking a few to check whether they retained lead with his eyes pointed toward Renjun, crinkled slightly with the smile that played across his mouth. Finally, his gaze settled to the small canvases that lay prompted against a wall, tucked into the corner and nearly hidden completely from sight.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Renjun watched as Jaemin approached the corner, fingers flicking through the canvases.</p><p>“Exploring.”</p><p>Jaemin paused, his hand drawing a small canvas from where it rested behind the others and stroked across the grooves of the dried acrylic paint. It was a small piece, done rather haphazardly, and Renjun felt his heart leap lightly as Jaemin turned toward him with a small smile. Renjun gazed toward his hands, picking at the skin beside his thumbnail with the nerves of Jaemin’s studying gaze over his work.</p><p>Jaemin placed the painting down after a moment and straightened. The pale palm of a young boy resonated into the room. Bright shades of cerise and canary yellow sprung from the cloak of white that puddled in the pale fingers, the light that refracted over plastic wrappers was blinding even with the still portrayal through vivid colors. The painting seemed to almost come to life from its two-dimensional position, a clip of time unable to be stilled. Renjun remembered when he’d painted the piece years ago, bursting into his room from the open window and hauling himself to his desk. He had reached for whatever canvas he could find and dumped shades of paint onto a small paper plate, mixing until he found the shade of skin and cherry that resonated in his mind and begun. The painting was done from frenzy, necessity for the beauty he’d seen urging him on, not careful contemplation.</p><p>Renjun rested his eyes over the small piece of art Jaemin had left to face the otherwise colorless room, a glint of a smile shining his eyes. He’d been rather proud of the painting with its accomplishment, though Renjun had found he’d rather leave it hidden –a secret for himself.</p><p>“You never told me you had a brother,” Renjun flicked his eyes upward to Jaemin’s slightly bemused face and Renjun shrugged. He could see the glow of color from where his eyes had prior rested, wonderment filling him with Jaemin’s lack of acknowledgement toward the depiction of the younger’s own hands.</p><p>“I don’t think it ever really came up,” Jaemin’s brow quirked.</p><p>“It didn’t?”</p><p>“I mean, no, not really,” Renjun shrugged again, his eyes averted to the white blanket rested over his bed.</p><p>“What about when I said I wanted a sibling and you just agreed?” Jaemin laughed slightly with a roll of his eyes and Renjun relaxed. He wasn’t serious, he’d just been confused.</p><p>“Maybe I was just saying I’d be your sibling,” Renjun shot back and Jaemin glanced toward him from the corner of his eyes.</p><p>“The last person I’d want as my sibling is you, Renjunnie,” Renjun turned to him. His voice had sounded strange, nearly warbled, and Renjun was taken aback. There was a teasing grin over his mouth, his face a picture of amusement and the elder shook his head to himself.</p><p>“Don’t be mean, jerk. I’d be the spitting image of the perfect older brother,” Jaemin laughed and shook his head with a smile.</p><p>“You’re the klutz who bashed his head in three years ago. I’d be a better sibling than your careless self because I carried you back,” Renjun disconcerted at the younger’s mention of his injury and he schooled his expression quickly, “You should idolize me.”</p><p>Renjun scoffed, “I vote we’re better off as we are, I think I’d rather hurl myself into a tree than listen to you gloat more than I already have to.”</p><p>Jaemin grinned, “I only gloat because I have an ever increasing list of accomplishments,” Renjun raised his brows at the other’s proclamation, “I am an accomplished man.”</p><p>“You’re fourteen.”</p><p>“Don’t act like you forgot I turned fifteen the other week. You got me new runners,” Renjun smiled towards his hands with quiet amusement.</p><p>“I remember your birthday; I just thought you’d turned fourteen, not fifteen.”</p><p>“I’m sure you did,” Jaemin quirked a brow and Renjun nodded his head, sarcastic agreement dancing over his features.</p><p>Jaemin settled onto the low bed, running his hand across the soft gray comforter and smirking toward Renjun as he lifted the fuzzy white blanket and wrapped it over himself. The taller boy fell back onto the bed with a soft <em>fwoop</em> as the mattress compressed below his sudden weight.</p><p>The silence that followed filled the room with ease. Renjun stared onto the green grass that unfolded before the house, curling away into the dirt of the forest floor. Bright foliage rustled with the wind and yellow weeds burst through the carpet of the overgrown lawn. It had been a while since the rain had wet the grass; the green blades colored richly and rid of the shine that accompanied dew from the summer thunderstorms.</p><p>“Renjun?” the boy in question turned, glancing to the bundle of warmth curled over his sheets. His bright smile shown through the mussed hair and face half hidden as it smooshed onto the mattress.</p><p>“Jaemin.”</p><p>“Come sit with me,” Jaemin raised his hand, gesticulating toward his phone that lay in front of his bundled form, “we could watch something together, if you’d like.” Renjun groaned, shoving off the window pane and crossing the few feet toward the bed. He fell onto the space beside the chestnut haired boy and glanced to the phone with a wonder toward what they could pull up, its screen dark. A strong arm wrapped around Renjun’s elbow and Jaemin looped his leg over the other’s waist, nuzzling his nose into the black haired boy’s neck. Renjun jumped with a whine, shoving against the tightening grasp and writhing away.</p><p>“Renjunnie,” Jaemin whined and Renjun rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Let go,” the other groaned, clutching at the long arms that caged him in, “you said we’d watch something, not that I’d be attacked.”</p><p>“Jaeminnie wants to cuddle,” Renjun held back a scoff at the pout that laced Jaemin’s words, cutting his flailing short and tipping his head backward with a heavy sigh.</p><p>“Jaeminnie is a brat,” Renjun mumbled. Renjun’s eyes traced the corners of his ceiling, the moment where the wall divided the roof perpendicularly, and studied the dark wisps where cobweb marred the white drywall. There were a few scuffs over the white; areas where he’d hung the Lego airplane figurines that he’d crafted on his bedroom floor, taken down with the maturity that followed middle school. His room had become quite bare, his interests of childhood long forgotten and his creative efforts turned more toward the sketchbooks and canvases that littered his desks than decoration.</p><p>“Do you think that my moving away was supposed to happen? So that you’d get the treehouse?” Renjun raked his eyes away from the ceiling to study Jaemin’s expression. His eyes were focused on a small hole situated just above him, drilled three years prior to hang a miniature coast guard plane. Renjun grunted in confusion, Jaemin’s eyes remaining over the flaw.</p><p>“I mean, like, say fate had a say in it. I built the treehouse with my dad, but then we had to move. Do you think that the move was predetermined so that you’d have a place of your own to go? That we were always meant to become friends?”</p><p>“Are you asking whether I believe in destiny?” Renjun asked, slipping his gaze away from Jaemin as the other turned and nodded. Renjun focused on a differed mark over the ceiling. “I mean, I don’t like the idea of it, no. But I don’t dismiss its possibility. Why?”</p><p>“I’m not sure. I started thinking about your accident again. I wasn’t going to go the treehouse that day. I had just suddenly remembered that there were no lemon candies left and I just felt like I had to. And I guess it all just strikes me as too much of a coincidence to be a sort of serendipity,” Renjun felt Jaemin shrug against him.</p><p>“Maybe you just couldn’t resist me and had to see me as much as humanly possible.”</p><p>Jaemin shoved against Renjun. “That was definitely <em>not</em> it,” Renjun laughed and Jaemin looped his arms around the elder’s neck again, cheek resting over the thin chest and chin tilted upward to glance at his soft features.</p><p>“I don’t like the idea that it wasn’t my choice that you entered my life. So no, I don’t think it was fate. I think it’s all blind luck that we’ve gotten to experience even a little bit of the each other in our lives. Even if that makes us pretty damn lucky,” Jaemin remained quiet at the elder’s words, his eyes skidding over his features as Renjun studied the marred ceiling still.</p><p>“Alright,” Jaemin nearly whispered and Renjun clashed his eyes against the dark ones that stared up at him.</p><p>“Alright,” Renjun replied.</p><p> </p><p>vi.</p><p>The air had long since turned crisp with autumnal months as Renjun gazed out his opened window from his placement on the floor. The glass pane, having developed the tendency to slip closed with a sudden force, consistently pinching fingers and bruising knuckles, had been propped ajar with a blank canvas the raven haired boy had found moments earlier, positioned against the wall of his closet. The low whistle of wind filtered into the stillness of his bedroom, rustling small piles of paper strewn over the edge of his desk. Even with the rapidly cooling weather, birds continued their harmonious twitter that flitted to Renjun’s ears. The leaves had mostly turned with the brisk temperatures, oranges and reds spilling a glow of fire across the trees and floating to sprawl across the ground as ash.</p><p>Renjun squinted through the trees, settling his eyes over the yellow glow of the horizon. Beams of gold dripped into the bedroom, bathing the room in flames and pools of honey puddling over the carpeted floors. Renjun found himself lolled in one such pool, warmth soaking into the chill flushed cheeks and eyes shut to the sunlight beating onto him.</p><p>The day had proven to pass rather uneventfully, though Renjun found he seemed to grow increasingly exhausted, the physical exertion of attending school causing him to tire. He’d spoken to the boy, Chenle, who’d remained beside him in class since their first interaction, his actions having grown tentative with the elder’s initial ill reaction. Each day consisted of the younger reaching out to Renjun vocally and, inevitably, he’d relented.</p><p>He learned the boy spoke Mandarin just as well as Renjun, and they had begun to utter the foreign tongue in hushed tones below the lectures, giddy with secrets. He’d learned the boy’s laugh sounded like a dolphin; high-pitched and obnoxiously loud to the ear, earning a glare from his classmates and scold from the teacher, hunched as he drew algebraic expressions over the dusted black of the chalkboard. And he’d learned that, while Renjun devoted himself to his art, Chenle doted on music.</p><p>Chenle and he had walked down the crowded hall together earlier that day; Renjun’s head instinctually lowered, though a grin painted across his face. Renjun had watched Chenle sprint his rigorous route to class and Renjun had moved to retire to the art room, a small smile playing over the corner of his lips and his eyes trailing over the laces of his shoes.</p><p>The newfound friendship, although initiated by the younger, filled Renjun with pride. He’d shoved his anxiety and fear aside, even just for a slim moment, enough to allow a crack of light to infiltrate his house of shadows and bring the warmth in.</p><p>Renjun felt he was no longer confined to the Korean boy who’d accompanied him as they grew up, didn’t have to burden the boy for a shoulder to cry on, and instead could begin to lessen the grasps he held around the other; afraid he’d begun to smother the glimmer with his shrouding darkness.</p><p>However proud he’d become in response to his interactions with the taller boy, Renjun still found it exerted himself beyond comprehension. He let out a sigh from his spot on the floor, running his hands over the rough carpet. It’d only get worse from then on.</p><p>Chenle, as it turned out, knew Jaemin. Renjun didn’t know why the fact had him taken aback, the two boys exuberant and radiating a similar air of self-confidence and giddy excitement. Jaemin knew nearly everyone, his handsome face and constant smile charming all he encountered. So, when Renjun mentioned his new friend, delight lacing his voice and a smile playing proudly over lips, he didn’t know why Jaemin’s immediate familiarity of the boy left him upset. He didn’t know why he found himself jealous and ticking at Jaemin’s seemingly effortless gaining of new company. And with the three boys’ mutual familiarity came Renjun’s submerging into a new world.</p><p>Once the discovery of Renjun’s developing comfortability around the younger boy came to light, Jaemin had immediately insisted on the introduction of Renjun to their close friends. Renjun had instantaneously disagreed; he knew he’d be uncomfortable, larger crowds and new acquaintances sending his heart sputtering.</p><p>Jaemin, however, had refused to let up.</p><p>Renjun knew the boy wasn’t clueless to his oppressing fear of social interaction; he’d been the one to help Renjun through the worst days. Renjun also knew Jaemin had never meant any harm to the elder, wanting nothing more than to help him through his crushing anxiety. Maybe he’d thought it’d help, and Renjun himself couldn’t say whether it wouldn’t benefit him. He also knew it’d been a long time coming of Jaemin wanting to merge his friendships.</p><p>Renjun had agreed just moments earlier, silently cursing Jaemin for twisting the plans they’d made weeks prior to urge Renjun into the new introduction. He rose from the floor, the sun having shifted lower and cold seeping into him as the glow no longer lay over his frame, and removed the canvas from its position before he slotted the window back in place.</p><p>The sun had begun to repeatedly set earlier in the late October skies and Renjun sighed, staring to the dimming horizon, blocked by the stark shadows of the tree line, before gathering himself and turning to face his closet.</p><p>Renjun and Jaemin had planned the night for a while, prepared to lounge lazily on the younger’s couch to watch reruns of horror flicks, dressed in costumes they’d kept secret from the other for a while, and answer the doorbell to face the joyous chants of those slightly younger than them. It had become a routine after they became decidedly too old and too lazy to walk door to door for candies that would ultimately rot and expire before the opportunity to finish them arrived. Renjun was not prepared, however, to do just that after years of staying home.</p><p>Jaemin had texted him after they’d split ways to their homes, plans to see each other later active, and Renjun was no longer a capable distance away to strangle the extrovert.</p><p>Chenle and a few others, familiar names he’d recognized from Jaemin’s rampages but all the more faceless still, had invited the two boys to join them in a party of seven that would terrorize candy bowls and small children scurrying up driveways. Renjun was unsure, typing and deleting various excuses to let Jaemin go and Renjun to just stay home; knowing full well the other would be disappointed to refuse the offer. Eventually Renjun had thrown his phone into the fluff of pillows that lay over his bed and exited the room to make dinner, ignoring the sounds that sprung through the thin walls of the house from his cell. When the anxious boy had returned Jaemin pleaded with Renjun to flexibly ditch their prior plans. Renjun had caved.</p><p>With a sigh that resounded loudly through the empty house, Renjun removed his carefully put together outfit from where it hung over the door, each piece placed on a single plastic clothes hanger. He’d spent a while working to create the simple costume, replicating the character from his favorite novel as he’d ventured to different stores on free afternoons, scrapping together whatever similarities he could find and turning them into his own art piece. His mother had disappeared one day in lieu of the sewing machine that cluttered Renjun’s floor from a closet of loose ends, random objects messily tucked away. He had ordered a few details online, excitedly perfecting his costume the week prior to its debut and slipped it into his closet.</p><p>Renjun supposed that, if anything, he should’ve been grateful that his hard work would reach a bigger audience.</p><p>Slipping the jade shirt over his head, Renjun quickly dressed. His favorite of the costume was the pair of vintage boots he’d found hidden in the back of the small thrift shop he’d ventured into. He’d been searching for a brown belt (which he had also stumbled upon rather easily) when he found the pointed toed shoes resting against the wall. They fit him rather well, despite their being a size larger than he’d have initially wanted, and he had grinned in excitement as he matched them to his outfit easily.</p><p>Renjun turned back to his window, the fast setting sun having sunken further into the tree line and casting a deep blue over the sky. He’d told the younger that he’d arrive still to his house at around six, the sunset alerting Renjun to the arrival of the dreaded hour.</p><p>Gathering his wits, Renjun stepped into the darkened hallway, snatching a lanyard of keys from the countertop and locking the front door behind him. His parents and brother had left the house to him for the night, telling him vaguely of their driving south and their return expected the following morning. He hadn’t entirely listened, expecting his night to be spent asleep on Jaemin’s couch. He was no longer sure where he’d find himself spending that night.</p><p>The walk to Jaemin’s small house never took very long, though the cut through the woods was significantly faster. Renjun brushed past the grabbing thorns of his rose bush, blooms closing to the cold of autumn, and glanced to the emptied streets before him. He continued forward over the sidewalk, pondering over the forest that seemed to have already grown significantly darker, the shadows that plagued behind each trunk driving him to turn away from the familiar path. His footsteps sped up as he turned to the longer route, deriving it safer and more practical as he could prepare himself for the people he was to spend the night with.</p><p>Renjun wondered over their personalities; feared the extroversion of Jaemin and Chenle would accompany the entirety of the group, pushing Renjun to further overexertion than he’d already been beset with. He hoped he could drift away, lollygagging behind the rest and away from their attention. Maybe he’d even find himself slip away after a while.</p><p>The familiar slate gray house rose above Renjun as he dragged his feet through the freshly mowed lawn, his mind already pondering his escape. Gorging on candy until he vomited was always an option, but then he’d grow even more unwanted attention, positively bad attention.</p><p>The door swung open with a flash of white and Renjun flicked his eyes up from where they’d focused over his brown boots.</p><p>“Y’know, you’re actually fairly late. You said six, it’s almost seven,” Jaemin had a quirked brow, his tone serious despite the amusement that pulled his lips into a grin. His costume was blindingly white; a milky suit decked over a deep blue button up, cape draping down his back to match the white top hat that rested over his mussed hair. Renjun nearly giggled at the monocle that lay over one eye, his nose scrunched to prevent it from slipping off.</p><p>“I tried to time it by the sunset, Kaito.”</p><p>“Well, clearly you’re not as good at that as I am; it’s only a ten minute walk. Clocks exist for people like you, you should use them,” Jaemin quirked a brow at Renjun and the older shook his head.</p><p>“Time doesn’t affect me, sorry. I’ll be a kid forever,” Renjun said with a smirk, gesturing down toward his green shirt and brown slacks. He walked forward to enter through the decorated doorway, cotton spider webs littering the porch. “I swear, your family adds more decorations every year. Someday you won’t be able to open the door,” Renjun spat a web from his mouth with a small scowl.</p><p>“You know my mom does it just to annoy you,” Jaemin flicked the prosthetic point of Renjun’s ear, smirking back at the glare he earned.</p><p>The inside was no better, a skeleton greeting Renjun at eye level as it clung to the railing of the staircase. Renjun jumped slightly and glanced around further, eyeing the clutter of decorations that covered the normally tidied house. Footsteps approached at the boys’ teasing conversation, a head of dark hair peeking around the corner to glance over Renjun’s intricate costume.</p><p>“Wonderful,” a smile graced the lips of the pretty woman before him, a similar sparkle to the one that charmed her son’s face. “It’s very well done per usual, Renjun, all I’ve looked forward to seeing today.”</p><p>Jaemin’s mother had made a routine of surveying Renjun’s costume each year, aweing over the intricate details the boy continuously liked to weave in. The first Halloween they’d spent together had largely consisted of Jaemin’s mother continuously asking in disbelief whether he’d had help constructing the papier-mâché poke ball as he denied her accusations continuously, incredulity widening her eyes at the boy’s artistry. Since then he’d always held a great pride over his designs.</p><p>“Thank you, Mrs. Na, I’m glad you acknowledge my costume easily beats Jaemin’s per usual,” Renjun invoked a laugh from her lips as she shook her head to herself, fondness lacing the chuckle.</p><p>“The shoes are the best part, I trust?” Renjun nodded to her with an excited smile.</p><p>“I found them at the vintage shop downtown,” he rushed out and she nodded, affection pulling her mouth into a wider beam as she slid from the doorway, turning back to wander toward the kitchen.</p><p>“I stand by that my mother will never love me as much as she does you,” Jaemin stated and Renjun turned, a coy smile playing over his lips as he looked to the taller, “but that’s okay, my dad will lie about my costume being better for the sake of my happiness.”</p><p>Renjun barked a sudden laugh, “I’m sure he would.”</p><p>“Besides,” Jaemin’s pout dissolved into a smirk, his eyes glinting, “you only like the shoes for the heels.”</p><p>Renjun sputtered and drew his arm back, lunging for the younger boy and slapping his arm. A laugh burst from his chest as he pulled him into a headlock, ignoring the shouts that resounded from the younger as he jumped onto the taller frame and weighed him down.</p><p>“It’s okay that you’re short, Renjunnie! I’ll be your friend whether you need a stool to reach the top shelf or not.”</p><p>“Don’t be a brat, Nana. It doesn’t look good on you,” the elder stated, poking the boy in his sides as he squirmed away and yelped. Their chests heaved with laughter as they separated, Renjun teetering slightly with dizziness and harsh breathing as Jaemin grasped his elbow, the steadying grip tearing Renjun’s eyes open to the other. Jaemin’s face was glowing with the smile that danced over his lips, staring down at a swaying Renjun. The elder brushed his grip off with a shrug and stretched his arms backward.</p><p>“Where exactly are we meeting your friends?” Renjun asked, agitation bubbling in his chest as he thought of the unfamiliar company. He seriously regretted not claiming sickness.</p><p>“I told them to stop by here and then we’ll head out as a group,” Jaemin tilted his head, studying Renjun’s rapidly paling features. “It’s easiest since my house is pretty ‘middle ground’ to everyone,” Renjun looked over the taller boy’s shoulder, avoiding the searching eyes. “Renjunnie, it’ll be fine. You know that, right?”</p><p>“Yes, I know that,” Renjun pointed a scowl to the monocle. It wasn’t that Renjun had anything against confiding in the other; quite the opposite really, even if he did consistently feel a burden; but Renjun didn’t want to do anything to ruin the boy’s night. He knew that if he voiced just <em>how</em> uncomfortable he truly was about it all, Jaemin would call it off. And, in Renjun’s mind, that was much worse.</p><p>Renjun wanted to do nothing to decrease the other’s happiness more than expressing his grievances already did. Jaemin didn’t deserve to fret over any but himself, and the elder knew the taller would never acknowledge such. Renjun took it upon himself to protect the younger from his own infiltrating darkness, to distance his insecurities from Jaemin’s help. Renjun wouldn’t let Jaemin spend a night unhappily away from his own friends because of the darkness that weighed against Renjun’s mind.</p><p>Jaemin nodded, his eyes continuing to scan Renjun’s notably weary features before he seemed satisfied and turned away. The two boys bounded up the stairs, shoving into Jaemin’s room. Renjun settled himself on the floor, his back propped against the bed and knees bent before him.</p><p>Jaemin’s room had always been significantly better decorated than Renjun’s own; the walls painted a light gray that reminded Renjun of the rubbery skin of dolphins and small frames of photographs propped over the light color. Jaemin had developed a knack for photography and Renjun prided himself on being in a select few of the photos, most featuring nature and his mother’s botany. His bed was never made, blankets scattered fitfully over the mattress and pillows flattened with sleep. The room held character, even in its gray tones, and was notably connected to Jaemin; something very unlike Renjun’s bland oasis.</p><p>Jaemin lay over the bed, legs stretched to kick the wall behind his headboard, and he ran his fingers through the bits of hair that rested on the nape of Renjun’s neck, sticking out from beneath the green cap.</p><p>“What are we going to do tonight?” Renjun’s tone was whispered and coated in slight drowsiness as the boy danced his fingers through his hair, knocking the cap slightly askew.<br/>
“Ringing doorbells.”</p><p>“I see,” Renjun replied. Amusement flitted through his voice at Jaemin’s simple answer and Renjun could almost sense the younger grin.</p><p>“That actually reminds me. I went out today and bought you a present,” the fingers continued their combing.</p><p>Renjun pulled away and turned, eyes studying Jaemin’s schooled expression in confusion.</p><p>“Why would you get me a present?”</p><p>“You’ll see,” the smile blossomed over Jaemin’s lips once more and Renjun tilted his head. The younger wasn’t one to randomly give presents and Renjun nearly groaned at the idea that he pitied him. The closest thing he’d gotten to a present from the smiley boy was a freshly picked dandelion weed in apology for insulting his taste in music (apparently Jaemin found melancholic indie to be<em> very</em> much so the worst type of music). He hadn’t even actually been sorry, was just bored with the silence the elder greeted him with.</p><p>A small whine came from Jaemin’s throat as the elder continued to stare at him, his hair no longer within reaching distance for Jaemin to fiddle with and his face contorted with confusion.</p><p>“I’m perfectly capable of kindness; don’t look at me like I’ve grown an extra head.”</p><p>“But you have,” Renjun’s schooled his expression with a smirk, “it’s right there,” Renjun pointed over Jaemin’s left shoulder and the boy in question smacked the small wrist away.</p><p>“No, I haven’t. And you know what I mean,” the whine continued to drag over his words and Renjun rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Yes, Jaemin, you are very capable of kindness and are allowed to buy me presents without being questioned,” Renjun shut his eyes dramatically, “Please, do so more often,” sarcasm bit his words.</p><p>“Oh shut up. Now you’re just being a jerk,” Jaemin pouted, turning his eyes away with insecurity. Renjun studied the unusual expression of the boy, anxiety and malaise flickering over his features as he avoided the searching gaze of his friend. Renjun found he was unconsciously grasping for Jaemin’s clenched hand, and the younger’s gaze flicked back towards him. Surprise was evident in Jaemin’s stare, the elder having never been one to initiate physical contact, and Renjun looked to him with as much warmth as he could muster.</p><p>“You’re the kindest person I know, Jaemin. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>The younger nodded, his lip quirking as confusion flickered over his brow slightly.</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p> </p><p>The boys spent the following hour engaged in hushed conversation, Jaemin’s fingers tangled in the silky strands of Renjun’s hair and lulling him into a state of half-consciousness, a heavy buzz of drowsiness cloaking the warm atmosphere of the small room. Jaemin had his eyes shut as he lay on his back, his moving hand the only indication of his wakefulness.</p><p>It was only once the darkness had permanently settled over the sky, the stars a splatter of white across the dark abyss that appeared void of all color and depth, that Jaemin cracked his eyes open and shoved through the heavy atmosphere of sleep that suffocated the room and chased away the crisp cool of autumn.</p><p>“I’d like to give you that present now,” and Renjun cracked a single eyelid, head turning halfway around to gaze side-eyed to Jaemin, hand still raking through the soft hairs. He hummed, his eyes drifting shut again with the tickle against his scalp.</p><p>Jaemin stood suddenly, his hands retracting from Renjun and feet planting on the ground with a thud. The older boy eyed him as he walked across the room, arms raised in a stretch as he shook his head to clear the fog that had settled over him. The chestnut haired boy, though his roots had begun to grow in stark and untouched against the light dye, appeared softer than usual; his lids drooped heavily, sleep tugging them closed, and his tousled hair brushed past his eyebrows and clung to his lashes.</p><p>Renjun found his own eyes stung, his mouth stale with sleep, and he pressed his palms into the backs of his shut eyelids. He’d been repeatedly drifting off over the lethargic conversation that had filled the quietude and Renjun smiled wistfully to himself. He was well aware he’d be unable to gain full consciousness until he settled for a restful sleep. He wondered at the time, his eyes skidding over the digits on Jaemin’s alarm, and frowned in consternation, the buildup of a groan threatening to bubble out of his throat from the mere thought of walking between houses.</p><p>Renjun looked to Jaemin as the boy turned, a sluggish smiling gracing his lips as he pulled a white bucket closer to his chest. Renjun stilled as he stared to the present. It was clear to Renjun it had been made rather cheaply, the thin plastic brittle and light passing through it unevenly, some spots more opaque than others as Jaemin shifted it in his hands. Still, the small gesture brought a grin to Renjun’s eyes.</p><p>“I dig the boxing, now where’s the real gift?” Renjun’s voice seeped with satire as he watched Jaemin’s petulantly approach him.</p><p>“Don’t be an ass,” he grumbled as he thrust the Moomin bucket to Renjun, the elder catching it as it swung to nearly graze his chin.</p><p>“Oh, this is the gift? Got it,” Renjun grinned to Jaemin who sneered. “Why exactly did you get it for me though? I was going to just steal your pillowcase from off your bed.”</p><p>“See I knew you would and it would just so happen that I like my pillowcase <em>on</em> my bed,” Jaemin’s tone lilted with Renjun’s teasing as the boys felt themselves perk awake, “I wanted to thank you, honestly, for agreeing to meet my friends.”</p><p>Renjun turned to the boy beside him, eyes grazing over the slope of his nose as he remained facing away the other’s gape.</p><p>“There’s no need. Though you can’t take it back,” Renjun curled around the hollowed Moomin head as the boy beside him chuckled.</p><p>“As long as you don’t take my pillowcases.”</p><p>“I make no promises.”</p><p> </p><p>The first arrival came in a group of three and Renjun excused himself to curl in front of Jaemin’s toilet, qualms churning his stomach with a severity that had him panting against the cool ceramic seat. He’d straightened with a clench of his jaw when his ailment proved to be illusory, splashing the cold that ran from the tap over his reddened face and gripping the door open.</p><p>It had been a while since Renjun had been placed in as uncomfortable a situation as he felt he had been then, his fear resonating through his head as his heart hammered like a fist into his diaphragm. Meeting new people wasn’t something Renjun pushed himself to do often and, despite his inability to breathe properly, he wouldn’t let it harm himself further than it already debilitated his everyday life. He stepped into the rambunctious kitchen with the release of a slow, heavy breath.</p><p>With trembling hands Renjun faced the realization that he’d screwed himself over. The crowd of new faces had grown from three to five in the minutes he’d laid over the dusty bathroom floor and Renjun buried his hands into the pockets of his brown trousers, gazing ruefully to Jaemin as he was greeted with a blithe expression.</p><p>The three that had arrived together smiled at him as they had previously, a similar expression of deferential kindness slipping over each face. Renjun surveyed their costumes, hoping the smile he shot towards them didn’t appear as perturbed as the small boy felt.</p><p>He noted that the tallest of the group was a boy dressed in a Joseon dynasty getup. The boy’s hair was pulled back into the ikseongwan that had been perched over the crown of his head and he smiled as Renjun surveyed him. His eyes disappeared into slits and Renjun’s nerves relaxed slightly with the act, his appearance soft and amiable. Jaemin called him Jeno.</p><p>Renjun’s eyes flitted away to his left and settled onto a smiling mess of brown hair. His outfit was similar to Jaemin’s, portraying a character from a manga with a blue suit and red bowtie. He laughed at something Jaemin said and Renjun quirked his head at the light giggle. Mark, Jaemin had referred to him.</p><p>When Renjun shifted his gaze to the final of the group of three he became slightly disconcerted with the severe scrutiny that stared back at him. The boy was a similar height, though he appeared immensely less lank than Renjun. His expression was searching, eyes nearly peevish as he studied the thin boy and Renjun felt his hands begin to pick up the speed of their quiver. The boy was dressed in leather, a hat settled over a wig of black curls, and black charcoal lined the intensity of his gaze.</p><p>Renjun grinded his jaw as he glanced to Jaemin, the boy guffawing with the joy that accompanied his engagement to the boy dressed similarly to him. His stomach continued to flip and clench nauseatingly and Renjun was unsure how to acknowledge the surly perusal of the other.</p><p>“Aren’t you the kid who ignores everyone in English?” Renjun’s brow furrowed and he turned his gaze away. His stomach clenched with anxiety as the accusation cut through him, guilt searing him with the thought of his brusque pretense.</p><p>“Probably,” a voice chirped from beside him and Renjun’s gaze snapped upward as a light hand fluttered over his elbow in comfort. Renjun recoiled at the sight beside him.</p><p>Chenle’s hair, spiked outward from his head, was sprayed vibrant orange. The clown winked at him and tugged the red balloon he held to thwack him over the head. A grin broke across Renjun’s face at the younger’s antics.</p><p>“Renjun, this rude Michael Jackson here is Lee Donghyuck. Don’t be fooled by his tough guy persona, he’s the biggest brat you’ll meet,” Renjun raised his eyebrows, face painted with dubiety as his eyes flickered to a beaming Jaemin.</p><p>“Hey, you little shit! I’m older than you!” Donghyuck launched toward the cackling boy as he leapt away from the elder’s grappling.</p><p>“He’s also got a wonderful vocabulary,” Renjun turned to Mark, an odd expression of fondness enshrouded his stare.</p><p>A young boy side-stepped the brawling duo and joined Renjun by his side, glancing toward the clear elder. Renjun turned and found he stood eye-level. Large mouse ears protruded from his hair and black had been smudged over his button nose.</p><p>“I’m Jisung,” he lifted his hand and pointed toward the fluffed ears that lay pinned in his light hair, “or jwi-sung.” Renjun laughed at the play on the Korean word and nodded, a small dimple appearing as he smiled to the younger.</p><p>“Renjun.”</p><p>Renjun took in a shaky breath through his nose, the young boy beside him smiling widely to the elder of similar height. He felt the nerves that nipped at his heels and sprung perspiration over his heated face, wobbling his legs, begin to resolve with the immediate removal of attention from his introduction, the scuffle of the two close friends attracting laughter and bright smiles.</p><p>The boy turned away as Donghyuck approached the group, rubbing his shoulder with a frivolous expression of glee. Chenle returned sulking.</p><p>As the door of Jaemin’s entryway opened, the brisk air of October awakening Renjun’s senses and the dimmest glow of moonlight spilling into the foyer, Renjun felt wonted warmth accumulate suddenly at his side. The boy in the jade shirt turned his head, his chin tilting upwards, and was greeted by eyes brimming with elation.</p><p>“Trick or treat,” Renjun’s voice twinkled with singsong inflection and Jaemin grinned, his hand rising to reach into the breast pocket of his ivory suit jacket. White wrapper flashed before Renjun’s eyes and the distinct sound of crinkling greeted his expectant ears.</p><p>Lemon candies clattered into the empty bucket.</p><p> </p><p>vii.</p><p>The hardest part of growing up with absent parents was the inability to solicit advice.</p><p>Renjun soon found that the house would be left to him often, his family leaving each Friday to return late Saturday afternoon. Renjun wasn’t sure if he was grateful.</p><p>In a way, the excess solitude allowed him to pretend that his usual seclusion was voluntary, that his family hadn’t pushed him away; they were simply gone often. He had begun to improve in cooking; dinners spent alone pushing him to explore his pantry further. Renjun found he could breathe easier exclusively with the house empty. The shouts had grown worse when it wasn’t; the anger and tension ricocheting through walls driving him to stay reclusive behind locked doors.</p><p>He’d quickly learned the weekend travels were to a distant therapist, rehabilitation forced onto his brother who turned to heavier drugs in retaliation. The youngest son wondered whether his parents were finally putting in an effort to stand resolute. But, even then they still took the brunt of tantrums, never removing the danger from the house. Renjun wondered if he could despise them for such, placing him in jeopardy as they harbored the addict. Renjun felt he was being washed under the waves and pulled from shore, thrashing against the harsh tide in effort to break free, with his brother’s outbursts. Renjun’s fear bubbled, threatened to boil over with the frequent anxiety attacks that coincided the suffocating apprehension of the small house.</p><p>Jaemin told him to swim adjacent to the shore.</p><p>Renjun didn’t know why he still felt like drowning.</p><p>As Renjun worked to push his head above the water, the weight of his thoughts sunk him further. He was continuously unsure of himself, no parent to turn to for explanation as to what was acceptable, and the weighted blanket of forlornness worsened whatever dither he felt.</p><p>In turn, secrets and silence grew between the two boys.</p><p>Renjun had a talent of pushing away others when his thoughts burdened him, fearing the pressure he’d place with the honesty he shared. So instead, he didn’t share. Jaemin noticed. It was hard not to when the elder was consistently removed from reality, a disheartened glare pointed towards the wind that whipped through the spiny branches. He did nothing to avoid the taller boy, turning to the refuge of the trees with agitation twisting his spine more often than he ever had, and instead silence stretched between them with the company they held.</p><p>His grades had begun to drop with the inability to focus that wracked his saddened mind. They’d been perched on the empty platform, the small leaflet he’d clutched in his hands snatched by Jaemin. A grimace twisted his usually beaming lips.</p><p>“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on, are you?” Renjun picked at the cracked skin of his knuckles, the cold having bitten the surface lifeless. The small tears stung with the nipping air and Renjun was almost grateful for the hurt that kept his mind present. Jaemin’s hands weren’t chapped. Renjun wondered if the smooth appearance would feel just as silky to touch. He thought Jaemin would be disgusted with the rough of Renjun’s palm. He thought maybe Jaemin’s parents had taught him to take care of himself, that that was why Jaemin seemed to be carved from the stars and Renjun a fleeting speck of dust.</p><p>“And you won’t ask about it,” Renjun continued to peruse over his hands. He’d have to start wearing lotion, he was sure there was some jammed in the cupboard below the sink. Maybe he’d even buy rubber gloves for the dishes, the blistering heat of sink water drying cracks into his skin.</p><p>“Except I will.”</p><p>Renjun shook his head, eyes glancing upward to the tips of the stripped branches, stark against the pale blue sky. “There’s not much of a point in asking.”</p><p>“And why’s that, Renjunnie?” the elder felt the weight of Jaemin’s eyes settle over his features, the usual fervor of his smile lacking.</p><p>“It wouldn’t change how I feel. I’m not going to burden you with useless conversation when it won’t end up benefitting anyone,” Renjun eyes stayed focused upward, his nails dug into the flaking skin of his thumb.</p><p>“You know that’s not true, Renjun. It’ll help,” Renjun began to shake his head, “You’re not going to burden me.”</p><p>“Speaking it only pronounces it true.”</p><p>“What’s pronouncing it true is your attitude,” Jaemin retorted, not unkindly.</p><p>Renjun’s voice was clipped, “Just go back to ignoring it.”</p><p>“I’m not the one ignoring it. You’ve avoided speaking to me for the past few <em>weeks</em>, Renjun. And before that you started going back to the art room during lunch.”</p><p>“Do you get a kick out of forcing details out of others,” Renjun bit, flickering his eyes to clash with Jaemin’s. He forced the surprise from his own at the indignation that greeted him. “Do you just want to prove me a liability so you have a reason to despise me more?”</p><p>Jaemin’s eyes flared with the elder’s words, “What the hell are you even pulling at? Is all you think about<em> yourself</em>? Why can’t you let me help you? Why don’t you let the people who care close to you?”</p><p>Renjun closed his eyes, recoiling away. His voice wavered with the break in his rigid posture, the sentence that broke free so deplorable that the elder’s eyes stung against the dry cold of winter. “You don’t deserve to have to fret over me, Jaemin. It’s not something you can fix and I <em>know</em> that you think you can help everything. But you can’t. You just don’t <em>understand</em>.”</p><p>“Then help me to understand. It’s not fair of you to assume that I find you a burden. You’re pushing me away as if I’ve insulted you when you’re the one keen on me despising you, don’t act like I’ve already labelled your problems a liability when you’re stopping me from understanding them. It’s just unfair to me,” Renjun flinched at the realization of his near bigotry. “Let me help you, Renjun.”</p><p>The older boy remained with eyes closed. The twill coat that he’d wrapped around his frame did little to dull the chill that hung over him. Sunlight streamed through wind-shaken branches, casting shadows dancing across his features just as flames licked across pristine white paper, turning it to sepia-toned darkness. Renjun didn’t understand Jaemin’s resignation to force honesty from the other, couldn’t fathom why the younger cared so much for someone who could provide so little. Renjun thought himself only a shell of a human, incapable of breaking through the surface of the waves and instead pulled under with the force of rip current.</p><p>And Renjun had been right in saying that honesty would change nothing of what he experienced. It wasn’t as if Jaemin could tear the boy from the life that’d dragged him down for years; that one simple explanation of his recent detachment would reverse the years of crippling deterioration afflicted over his mind.</p><p><em>Six years</em>, Renjun thought, <em>of being alone</em>.</p><p>It wasn’t that Jaemin hadn’t lessened the suffocating feeling of forsakenness, his company at the treehouse the only thing capable of loosening the grasp of pessimism; it was simply that the boy who resembled that of a star deserved to dote on much more than a rugged stone. And Renjun couldn’t help but find the presence of the boy with sparkling edges made him feel all the more alone. The separation between them had eroded far too wide from the secrets Renjun had kept, the distance not crossable and the despondency that accompanied his truth left only to his hands.</p><p>“I’m not sure I know how to,” Renjun pursed his lips, lowering his gaze to his lap.</p><p>“Just talk to me.”</p><p>Renjun nodded, raising his chin and staring into the distant trees that framed the winter months. He could hear the thrumming of his own heartbeat in his ears, resounding behind the rush of blood that drowned out the whistle of a winter gale – it beat a rhythm erratically, the roar similar to the burst of a shell. Renjun’s eyes shook.</p><p>He’d be honest with the younger; he’d done it in the past with lesser things. Maybe he’d find a rickety bridge situated over the trench –or maybe he’d finally be put from his guilt and Jaemin would free himself from the grasp of the elder’s cracked hands and engulfing surf.</p><p>“I’m alone in the world, I guess?” as Renjun spoke it aloud he found himself uncomfortable with its simplicity. He found it stupid even, that such a small sentence was the monster behind his separation. “My parents have never had the time for me, you know that, but there’s more reasoning behind it.”</p><p>Renjun felt Jaemin shift closer slightly, his knee brushing the other’s thigh as he pulled his legs crossed and turned his attention entirely to Renjun. “We left Jilin when I was nine, but we hadn’t really lived there for months anymore,” Renjun spoke to the trees. “We kind of just existed within the constraints of our house. My mom’s side of the family had cut us off completely, they’d never really supported our family and well-,” Renjun stopped himself abruptly. He drew his hands over his face and pushed the tips of his fingers into his eyes harshly.</p><p>“When my brother got… sick, it was really bad. He was completely transformed as a person, acted rashly against my parents and drank. I was just a boy, I guess I understand it a lot more now than I did then but I still don’t <em>know</em>. He started abusing anything he could find constantly and things were always deemed missing around the house. I’d had a ring my grandmother had given me and I realize now he probably sold it for drug money,” Renjun winced to himself and his throat rasped with a dry laugh.</p><p>“The funny part is I probably would’ve given it to him if he asked –he was my big brother, y’know?” Renjun shrugged, “but he didn’t ask and I guess that makes it all the worse to look back on. He was so incredibly selfish and I didn’t understand it all, I just wanted to get <em>so mad</em> with him –for how he treated my parents and for ignoring me, I suppose, and I couldn’t, not really. So instead I just ignored him back. Eventually everything escalated and the police were continuously involved with the danger he posed. So our family just said we were a shame and that was the last we were involved with them,” Renjun’s muscles were tensed and he cleared his throat. He hated how the bile rose to his esophagus and choked him, making breathing hard and raspy.</p><p>Renjun shook with the confession, his chest tightened vehemently and he retched out a dry sob. Jaemin’s warm hand settled over the small boy’s back.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Renjunnie,” Renjun shook violently. He felt inherently fragile, threatening to shatter at the slightest affront. “You’re going to be okay.”</p><p>“No, but you don’t see – <em>no</em>, I’m <em>not</em>. I just – it’s so suffocating. I walk into my house and I can’t <em>breathe</em>, I can never function or breathe or just live. I smother everyone who tries to help; I can’t even let them help me. My mom – she doesn’t even know who I am. I don’t think my dad has said my name since after the accident – there’s nothing for me anywhere. I can never go back to China, I don’t even know who my family <em>is</em>, and there’s nothing here for me but a stupid oak tree,” Renjun thrust his hand toward the base of the tree, “I can’t even go through my day without a panic, and I see him everywhere, I feel like I’m <em>drowning</em> and I can’t breathe. I’m just so angry with him. He’s taken everything from my life and I – and I can <em>feel</em> myself turn jaded like him. And I’m so <em>scared</em> and -,” Renjun choked, a sob wracking his trembling frame as his words cut from his throat.</p><p>“Renjunnie,” soft hands cradled the elder’s clamped ones and Renjun turned his stinging eyes to the pair that joined their fingers together. His vision blurred the four palms; one pair foreign to his disassociated mind and the other a comforting familiarity of smooth skin and tender touches. The gentle caress eased over his agitated fists, slowing the quivers.<br/>
Jaemin’s fingertips were as soft as he’d imagined.</p><p>“Renjun,” the older turned his eyes upward, the watery face before him marred with distress, “You’re not jaded –you’re hurt. You’ve grown up feeling like the world is set out to see you fail, to see you turn out just like your brother. But it’s not. You may not see it, it may feel like you’ve failed and should just give in to the fear, but every day that you separate yourself from that house, you’re fighting him. It may feel like a failure to run, but you have to have courage,” Renjun sniffled, his eyes skirting over the other’s face for a flicker of insincerity. “But you don’t need to run from those who want to help too. You can’t do that to yourself.”</p><p>Jaemin tugged the boy’s hands slightly, comfort lacing the tender action, “You don’t just have this oak tree here, you have all of us. Whatever happened back home, whatever drove your family from China, doesn’t determine your character Renjun. You’re not your brother and you’re not your anxiety or anger.”</p><p>Renjun’s eyes returned to their interlocked hands, to the slight of his palms against Jaemin’s larger pair. His fingers, cracked and reddened with irritation, to Jaemin’s, pale and long as a pianist’s, provided a small semblance of solidarity to Renjun’s cloak of isolation.</p><p>“And what if I can’t move on from it all?” Renjun’s voice was small as he studied the joint appendages.</p><p>“Sometimes you don’t need to move on, you just need to let yourself heal.”</p><p>Renjun’s mind blanked at the boy’s words. The tension that compressed over his chest lightened slightly and warmth bloomed. Renjun didn’t need to forgive his brother, he didn’t need to reach out to his parents to alleviate the blame that stirred in his gut –he just had to learn to tread the water.</p><p>“It’s a stupid reason to be so hurt, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It’s never stupid to be hurt,” Renjun fell quiet, a small nod tugging his head.</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>The boys sat in the silence that greeted the woods in early winter months; hibernation swathing away the rustle of animals and the hiss of chill breeze searing through aching, red ears. The sun hadn’t yet begun to set, its position above them infiltrating little warmth over their wintry reddened noses. Renjun thought maybe they looked like cherries.</p><p>Jaemin dropped his head to Renjun’s shoulder and the elder rested his cheek against the soft strands that tickled his cheek. Both pairs of eyes were trained to the blue sky, contrails of white fluffed like cotton.</p><p><em>Blueberries,</em> Renjun mused, <em>seems just about right</em>.</p><p>“Do you think,” Renjun glanced down to the press on his shoulder, “the clouds would feel wet with the water vapor?”</p><p>Renjun smiled softly, his eyes turned to the chalky white that littered the sky, “I think I read somewhere that they feel like mist.”</p><p>“I wish they’d feel like wool.”</p><p>Renjun returned his head over Jaemin’s. “Well, I suppose they still could,” Jaemin nodded and the silence seeped back in.</p><p>The elder studied the planks below the pair’s feet, warped and splintered with age. Knots decorated the thick plywood like faces and Renjun traced his index in circles over the groove therapeutically. He pondered over the younger’s distant words, he wasn’t sure where he could even make a dent in the anxiety he’d built up –the self-deprecation he’d convinced himself was necessary and true. Renjun knew the impression he held that he was undeserving of Jaemin’s comfort wouldn’t sway, he’d continue to dote on the idea that the boy with a smile of the milky way would be only felled by the black hole that was Renjun; but the least he could do for the other was push the idea behind him.</p><p>“Hey, Jaemin?” Renjun stilled the swirling of his hand over the wooden plank.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“What exactly am I supposed to do?” the younger remained unmoving from his shoulder, Renjun wondered if his eyes had previously slipped shut.</p><p>“That’s hard for me to tell you. I’d say you just need to learn that you don’t have to bare the entirety of your pain. You have people who’ll help if you give them the chance.”</p><p>Renjun cocked his head at the sentence. He knew Jaemin’s friends were kind, he’d spent a few lunches getting to know them; though Jaemin had been right in saying he’d begun to avoid the bunch for the arts room. He supposed the least he could do was rekindle the flame he’d snuffed out with his growing dissociation. It was a place to start.</p><p>“I don’t suppose there’s still an empty seat at lunch?” Renjun’s mouth curved into an ephemeral smile as Jaemin drew back to glance over him.</p><p>“We sit on the floor, Renjun, there are no ‘seats’,” Renjun scratched roughly against his scalp, the harsh friction warming the tips of his fingers. Jaemin was making light of their heavy conversation and Renjun felt something delicate rest in chest. He appreciated the sentiment.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Renjun, I’d be delighted if you joined me and my friends-‘.”</p><p>“<em>Our</em> friends,” Renjun startled at Jaemin’s interruption. The gaze that greeted him was resolute and Renjun’s lips curved into a small smile, the feeling of a gauzy blanket of warmth nestling over him. Renjun was reminded of the comfort that had filled him with the initial interaction of the younger. Jaemin had always been giving, he’d always found the younger filled with a glow that he wasn’t sure he’d truthfully earned and a warmth stolen from the glory of nebulas crafted by divine hands.</p><p>Jaemin was summer breezes and winter chills, bulky jackets and woven scarves, blueberry flavored skies and honey dripping stars. But mostly, Jaemin was cherry wrappers and lemon tang.</p><p>And Jaemin was the warmth that bloomed over Renjun’s stomach and into his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>viii.</p><p>Renjun slinked through the crowded hallways, his pace slowing as his eyes flitted to the darkened window of the adjacent classroom. He sidestepped a few students before halting a moment in front of the shut door. He knew the handle to be left unlocked; the lights shut off to accommodate the art teacher’s lunchbreak though left open for any who’d return to complete the ever present projects that scattered the floors.</p><p>Renjun glanced further down the hall, toward the direction of the lunchroom, though it remained shielded from view with the twists of lockers and bustling students. He sighed, his mind bouncing over Jaemin’s words before continuing forward with the flex of his fingers.</p><p>The art room remained submerged in the absence of students.</p><p>The boy walked slowly between the classrooms, his eyes gazing from behind the curtain of black bangs as the lunch bell rang and his break began. His vision skirted over the emptying halls, glancing in discomfort for familiar forms and walking, slumped, toward the small corner he’d only visited occasionally.</p><p>Renjun slowed his pace as he viewed the occupied area, a head of chestnut brown accompanied by another of dark hazel turned away from his slinking form. He tightened his fists over the fabric strap of his backpack, his feet stuttering slightly as he gazed at the lone pair. Renjun glanced to the rambunctious cafeteria, taking in the occupied chairs and benches of students and the deafening drone of relieved conversation, the ease that accompanied the early afternoon break settling over the warm atmosphere.</p><p>Renjun felt his hands twitch with nerves, his back open to the wide expanse of room and surrounded by the anxiety of unfamiliar faces. He studied his dirtied converse and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, shoving the quiver that teased over his stomach aside and taking a step forward.</p><p>Renjun ventured to the corner, his footsteps hesitant as he studied the calm pair, their food assorted before them after having been pulled from packed lunches. The boy of hazel hair darted his gaze upward and furrowed his brow vaguely. Renjun halted before the pair, his knees bending slightly with nerves.</p><p>“You haven’t been here in a while,” Donghyuck stated monotonously, his voice reeked of an almost distrust and Renjun flinched backward slightly.</p><p>“I’ve been staying in the art room,” Renjun flicked his gaze to the beam that painted over Jaemin’s small complexion as he stared up to the almost cowering boy.</p><p>“I <em>begged</em> him to return to us, Hyuckie –told him that being stuck here with you was excruciating,” Jaemin grinned toward the other’s pout.</p><p>“I keep great company,” Donghyuck whined with a frown to Jaemin’s exaggerated agreement at the older’s statement.</p><p>“Oh, yes –that’s what I meant.”</p><p>“He told me I had to come back to see just how amazing you were,” Renjun piped in quietly, a waver plaguing his tone that earned a curious glance from the latter.</p><p>“Alright then,” Donghyuck morphed his face into a grin at the elder, his heart-shaped lips pulling back widely, “you’re welcome here with that attitude.”</p><p>“Don’t encourage him, Renjun. We’ll never hear the end of it now.”</p><p>“You act as if I’m not the most charming person here,” Donghyuck flicked Jaemin’s forehead and the latter pulled away with a frown. Renjun curled his legs beneath him and rummaged through his bag as the two drabbled before him, bickering flitting past his ears. Renjun pulled the small lunch sack from where it was smooshed beneath folders and unzipped it, glancing upward to the squabbling pair.</p><p>“At least I have multiple talents,” Donghyuck sneered and Renjun quirked a brow, his face musing over two boys’ interactions.</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“I have a voice of the heavens.”</p><p>“That was only one –and so does Chenle, allegedly.”</p><p>“But can Chenle also rap?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard him do a little.”</p><p>“Alright, well… you got me stumped there,” Renjun sniggered to himself as Donghyuck shrugged and turned away, pulling a slice of clementine between his lips with a defeated grin. Donghyuck glanced sidelong at the elder as he chewed, his eyes flickering over his features. Renjun looked back to Donghyuck before dashing his eyes away.</p><p>“So how come you ditched us for the art room, anyway?” Donghyuck followed Renjun’s eyes to where they shot to Jaemin’s own pair, “Aren’t you two inseparable? I can’t be that repulsive to get you to ditch him,” Donghyuck’s lip pulled into a smirk as he watched Jaemin sneer back at him.</p><p>“I just didn’t want to eat out here…” Renjun trailed off, his hands clenching slightly. “It’s loud and all.”</p><p>Donghyuck shrugged, “I happen to like the noise of it all, keeps good company,” he winked as Renjun raised his brows.</p><p>“Glad you decided to return, though.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. nyctophilia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>renjun learns what it means to move on.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: description of injuries</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ix.</p><p>Renjun had never been one for roller skating –not that he’d actually ever tried.</p><p>It was the idea of being supported only by wheels, a fiddly concept on its own, whilst flying past others who were just as unstable and unpredictable as he that sent his stomach flipping uncomfortably. He’d first approached the concept at a young age when his mother had gotten him a skateboard to celebrate his inauguration into primary school.</p><p>He had been rather dinky compared to the others that surrounded him in the skate park, the air rushing past with the exhilarating speed of those that flew by him, and nerves stirred his gut as he gripped his mother’s arms. The skateboard had been set in front of his small, runner-clad feet, compelled to a stop by the weight of his mother’s foot. Renjun had stepped onto the small board, his knees quaking with fear and hands clenched in his mother’s sleeves, and wobbled as the taller woman had crouched and began to guide him slowly forward.</p><p>The feeling Renjun had gained from the experience was not a pleasant one. His mother had loosened the grip over his shoulders, attempting to step from his reach just as a mother bird pushed her chicks to plummet toward the ground and learn to fly.</p><p>Renjun didn’t fly.</p><p>With his sudden weight pushed forward over the board, having grasped for the cotton of his mother’s shirt, he lurched. The board flew from beneath him and Renjun was propelled forward, his feet bending awkwardly behind him. With a thud Renjun skid over the flat concrete, asphalt digging into his hands and stripping the skin from his elbows. Blood streamed from his small nose.</p><p>Renjun crashed.</p><p>The skateboard never made its reappearance. He was fairly positive it had been left behind in the move, disused and dejected.</p><p>Renjun had been sitting alongside Chenle in their corner for lunch when the fear had bubbled in his gut for the first time since his childhood.</p><p>The raven-haired boy had an apple poised before his lips, teeth clenching over the crisp skin with a crackle as the surface broke, and the younger was nudged close to his side, his knees knocking into Renjun’s. They were the only two who’d brought their own lunch, the three others who shared a similar lunch block venturing to the front of the cafeteria in wait for the inching line to provide them with food.</p><p>Renjun had his eyes lowered to the phone he held in his lap, his chats open as he read through the endless series of incoming messages from a certain Na Jaemin, rants typed rapidly with a fury only he could muster over such a dull topic. His English teacher, an older woman with failing posture and a permanent frown, had insulted his vocabulary –Renjun could say with full confidence that Jaemin currently displayed quite a wide vocabulary of expletives, courtesy be damned.</p><p>“I think I’d like to go roller skating this weekend,” Renjun’s head shot up to the younger, his phone clicking shut without gracing Jaemin with a response. Renjun quite liked the grumpy English teacher; she gave him smiley face stickers.</p><p>“Why on earth would you want that?” Chenle giggled and turned his phone to face Renjun, shoving it forward below his nose and sending the other flinging backward. Renjun went cross-eyed as he focused down the slope of cartilage to the article the younger had pulled up.</p><p>“For my birthday –besides, the place is new and looks sort of <em>groovy</em>,” Chenle shook his hands with the last word, Renjun’s eyebrows shooting upward.</p><p>“Count me out, Lele.”</p><p>“Can’t, it’s my birthday wish. All must comply with a birthday wish,” the younger giggled at the elder’s peevish expression.</p><p>“I don’t think you can require me to skate though,” Renjun shrugged flicking his eyes to incoming stream of messages that lit the home screen of his phone repeatedly up.</p><p>“‘Purchase of a pair of skates required with entry’,” Chenle read from the website, “would be a shame to waste the money.”</p><p>Renjun glared to the other who glanced back with mirth, “I can’t afford it.”</p><p>“I know a brown-haired boy who’d pay for you.”</p><p>“There’re a lot of brown-haired boys who’d pay for Renjun. He’s got a pretty face –you have to be more specific than that. I, for one, would not,” the two boys broke from their challenging stare-off to face toward the new voice. Donghyuck curled his feet below him as a smug grin climbed over his face. “Though, I advise you to think twice before selling yourself.”</p><p>“Feel free to get back in line.”</p><p>“Now why would I do that when I’ve already gotten my food, dummy,” Renjun scowled and Donghyuck scrunched his nose sarcastically.</p><p>“Renjun doesn’t want to go skating for my birthday,” Chenle pouted and Renjun rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Renjun you know that what the birthday boy says, goes,” the eldest groaned and tipped his head back, agitation filling him.</p><p>“I know but, personally, not a big fan of skating. Or wheels, for that matter,” the two boys burst into laughter and Renjun looked back, eyes bouncing between them. The elder demanded they stop laughing, but Chenle’s wheezing only grew louder.</p><p>“Why’re they laughing,” Renjun looked at Jeno with relief. Jeno was reasonable. Renjun could get Jeno to listen.</p><p>Renjun couldn’t get Jeno to listen.</p><p>“It’s just a skating rink. You’ll be fine, there’s bumper wall for reason, you know,” Renjun’s scowl returned.</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” Donghyuck piped in and Jeno turned to him in confusion.</p><p>“What do you mean by that?” he grabbed his chest in mock offense.</p><p>“You’re good at everything,” Renjun responded for the other and Jeno whipped his head back toward him. Renjun wondered over his neck, he’d get dizzy at the rate he was going.</p><p>“‘Jack of all trades, master of none’,” Jeno shrugged.</p><p>Renjun rolled his eyes, “The expression is ‘jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one’.”</p><p>Jeno sniffs, “I mean, okay?”</p><p>Chenle scowls to the boy, “No, you see, that’s where you deny it. You’re supposed to say, ‘pfft, no, I can’t do math for shit!’” Chenle raised his voice to a pitch of obnoxious modesty, mocking the elder. He dodged a swat with a yelp and crashed into Renjun.</p><p>“He <em>can’t</em> do math for shit,” Donghyuck mumbled around the sandwich he had stuck halfway into his mouth. Renjun grimaced at the pile of mush that rested over his tongue.</p><p>“But Renjunnie, it’s my last birthday before everyone graduates. I don’t want to spend the last year before I’m stuck alone to celebrate with Jisung <em>not</em> at the roller rink,” Chenle yelped as said boy arrived, a whack knocking Chenle’s head forward and his hair falling over his forehead. “Like I said: I don’t want to waste my last <em>good</em> birthday without you because you’re scared of roller skating.”</p><p>“Renjun’s scared of roller skating?” Jisung sniggered and Renjun shot him a heated glare.</p><p>“You <em>have</em> to come,” Chenle bounced with excited restlessness.</p><p>“You’ll pay my medical bills when I break my nose again.”</p><p>“You broke your nose?” Donghyuck guffawed and Renjun lunged for him, the younger scrambling away and to his feet with a screech as Renjun sat back into his spot, face resembling that of a wisenheimer.</p><p>“This work of art is all plastic surgery, baby,” Renjun swirled his hand in front of his face, “perfection doesn’t come easily.”</p><p>“Explains why it’s crooked,” Donghyuck grumbled as he fell back onto the floor.</p><p>“It’s not crooked,” Renjun glared as the other goaded him as hideously deformed. The two continued to squabble as the three others sat back in amusement, whispering apologies to the side-glances their loud dramatics earned. It was only when Renjun sprung toward Donghyuck once more, his feet lifting from the ground fully that time, and launched himself onto the shouting younger that they decided it’d be wiser to intervene.</p><p>Renjun wrestled the whining boy into a headlock, his hands gripping the smaller boy’s thin arms as his shrill voice resounded around the corner and his feet kicking. Renjun’s bright voice laughed at the younger’s curses and the three exchanged wide glances as they tugged him off. What had possessed the notably reserved Renjun, they weren’t sure.</p><p>“You’re about to break something,” Jeno’s voice was frantic; his eyes frazzled as he tried to chase off a pinching Renjun from Donghyuck.</p><p>“I’m sure we will,” Renjun’s voice was thick with laughter, amusement clear on his beaming face as he finally sat back. “Something like my nose.”</p><p>Renjun felt completely blithe.</p><p>It was true that the happiness that wracked his frame had been slow-coming and near painful. Renjun thought of his conversation with Jaemin nearly every day, its weight a constant reminder of what he had to work for. But in the years that had passed since his breakdown –since he swore to be better for his starry smile –Renjun had improved significantly.</p><p>And, for the most part, Renjun’s happiness came easy. There were days when his fear came back full force, when he’d stumble from bed only to crumple to the floor with the pain that shocked his chest and gut. He’d still continuously found himself drawing inward, his mind frazzled with the secrets of his occasional ill-being –fear for the possibility of Jaemin’s downfall with the darkness of Renjun’s mind, a darkness he’d worked continuously to disband. There were days when the boy felt his progress was useless, that he’d never move forward from the pain that afflicted him. But there were days when Renjun felt he wasn’t alone, when the crushing blanket of loneliness didn’t force the breath from his lungs.</p><p>Those days were all that Renjun found important.</p><p>Renjun’s beam lessened to the light curl of a small smile as he and Donghyuck heaved air. They turned to each other and laughed breathily at the reminder on the other’s face of Renjun’s attack. The three boys around them sat back onto their heels with the nulling of their scuffle.</p><p>“So, roller skating?”</p><p>“I don’t roller skate, I roller blade, baby,” Jeno’s hands surfed the air and Jisung groaned toward the elder.</p><p>“You’re not funny, Jeno,” Jeno squawked in response.</p><p>Renjun nodded. He ignored the boy rambling about manners and picked up his darkened phone, Jaemin’s texts no longer flooding.</p><p>“I guess someone will be buying me roller skates.”</p><p>“And one of those kiddie training scooters, it should be about the right height,” Renjun batted at Donghyuck.</p><p> </p><p>With every step he took his stomach leapt to his throat. It felt as if he were in an endless cycle of falling; his feet never truly planting, but instead slipping from beneath him.</p><p>It smelled of rubber and stale sweat in the rink, lights dimmed with the subtle gleam of colored fluorescents. Renjun found the white of his t-shirt glowed blue. A gentle tug folded the luminescent cotton and Renjun lifted his head from where he studied the material.</p><p>“Are you going to go out any time soon?” Renjun turned back toward the wooden rink. He stood alone with Jaemin, the rest having slipped forward onto the waxed floor. The elder boy studied the wheeled shoes strapped to his feet with a perturbed expression. He thought them torture devices, pinching his toes slightly and providing an imbalance that made him totter with each clumsy glide –had decided so solely from the short distance he’d stepped in them from their table to the rink entrance.</p><p>“It’s fine if you just go, I promised Chenle I’d try but I think I need a minute.” Jaemin tilted his head.</p><p>“I’ll stay with you, no need to wait alone,” Renjun lips curved into a soft smile at the broad grin of the younger.</p><p>“Alright, well –no point in making you wait for me? Let’s go now then,” Renjun darted away, taking a tentative step forward. The sooner he proved his helplessness and crashed to the floor, the sooner he could return to his seat at the empty table. His hands were white-knuckled with the death grip he held over the side wall, his eyes wide with the step forward he took.</p><p>A warmth enveloped Renjun’s elbow and his foot slid forward in shock, turning his eyes to the taller boy. Renjun yelped as he felt himself drop, fear tensing his limbs like rigor-mortis as he prepared for the harsh impact.</p><p>It never came.</p><p>The warmth over his arm tightened and his shoulder nearly popped as it was tugged upward, his feet scrambling to place over the ground and remain upright once more. Renjun gripped the arm like a lifeline, the material scrunching as he clenched his fists over the younger’s limbs for balance, and he stared toward Jaemin’s raised eyebrows. A tickle bloomed in his chest.</p><p>“Maybe, just a thought, try to keep your feet <em>below</em> you,” Renjun scowled but his hands only tightened over the taller’s arms.</p><p>“Now that’s an idea I hadn’t thought of. And here I was planning on army crawling across the floor,” Renjun snarled and Jaemin’s chuckle rang loudly, his face scrunched with hilarity. Renjun’s expression softened. He pushed the tickle of his chest down, shaking his head.</p><p>“C’mon. You’ll have to let go of me to skate –I know I have nice arms, it’s okay to admit that, but we do have to move forward and, currently, forward is into me,” Renjun rolled his eyes tartly, ignore the teasing prod.</p><p>“I’m thinking I’ve had my fill of fun,” Renjun pushed backward, the force sending him drifting toward the wall and he latched on. Jaemin smiled smoothly and raised his eyebrows as he rolled closer to the boy.</p><p>“I don’t think you have. You look a little stressed; I don’t think you’ve relaxed enough. You can’t say you’ve had your fill of fun until you’re relaxed, y’know?”</p><p>“Right,” Renjun’s teeth were clenched as he spat the word. His jaw ground as he shot the light-haired boy a glare.</p><p>Jaemin snatched the elder’s hand, tugging him from the wall and tucking him under his arm. Renjun’s face slipped and he locked his knees. “Well your first problem is the tension. If you don’t think about falling, you won’t fall.”</p><p>Renjun shook his head slightly, his eyes focused heavily on the few feet ahead of him as he scrambled over the slicked floor. “Easy for you to say, I need to think about falling because I will fall. It’s me taking protective measures.” Jaemin’s grip over Renjun’s shoulder tautened and he felt himself being tucked even closer to the younger. He radiated heat.</p><p>“You won’t fall; I’ll hold you up if you trip.”</p><p>The proximity of the two made the elder stiffen slightly, the hot whisper of air tickling against his ear. Renjun remained silent as he scrunched his forehead and trained his eyes over the floor that passed below him. The two were moving rather slowly, the wheels of Renjun’s shoes slamming sloppily on the hardwood, and Renjun felt as the tension eased from his clenched legs.</p><p>“You’re relying too heavily on lifting your feet. It’s not walking; you don’t need to plant with each step, just push off and slide your feet horizontally,” Jaemin gestured to his own form and Renjun shook his head slightly. He didn’t understand.</p><p>“But I’ll just fall forward, my feet will kick out.”</p><p>“Renjun, you’re more likely to fall forward with your form now. You’re too unbalanced, if you just left the wheels to carry you the speed will help with balance,” Renjun shook his head and nearly stopped the movement completely, his eyes wide as he glanced toward Jaemin. He nearly stumbled with the nearness of the smiling boy.</p><p>“I am not going any faster.”</p><p>Jaemin raised the hand that wasn’t steadying Renjun’s shoulders, “Alright, I didn’t say we had to. I just mean that you’re trying to balance yourself when moving will help naturally.”</p><p>“So what are you telling me to do?” Renjun was frustrated. He was scared and he was frustrated. He didn’t think it very fair that all his other friends were looping around them, whooping as they lapped the huddled pair, and Jaemin was stuck unable to join their gliding. He didn’t think it very fair that Jaemin had to sit back and help him. He just wanted to give up.</p><p>“Renjun just get out of your head. You’re worrying so much when I know you won’t get hurt. You can’t expect to all of a sudden start skating like Jeno or Donghyuck, but you don’t need to worry about everything going wrong all the time.”</p><p>Renjun shrugged, his head turning back to glower at the floor, “You shouldn’t have to hang back with me.”</p><p>“I happen to like hanging out with you. Even if six years has made you run out of new conversation.” Jaemin snorted and Renjun shoved his shoulder into the taller’s chest. He grunted and keeled over slightly, Renjun pushed away with a giggle. His eyes widened and he looked down, his safety net was gone, and Renjun was no baby bird.</p><p>His throat tightened as he froze, feet stilled and wheels rolling slightly backward, away from Jaemin.</p><p>“Jaemin,” his voice sounded far away and heavy with nerves, “Jaemin, I can’t skate.”</p><p>“Renjun, you’re fine. Don’t worry about falling, just slide your feet. Like this-,” Jaemin glided further away, Renjun shook. “Diagonally.”</p><p>The elder’s eyes were wide and he stepped forward slightly, mimicking the taller. His feet slipped backward and his heart leaped from his throat. Renjun’s arms flailed as he felt himself tip forward, stress wracked his frame. An arm grasped his waist tightly and straightened him.</p><p>Jaemin’s hair was mussed and his eyes danced with mirth. “-got you, skating really isn’t your forte, huh?” His breath fanned over Renjun’s face with laughter and the elder grimaced. Cherries.</p><p>“No, I wouldn’t exactly say it’s my ‘cup of tea’.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you say something,” Jaemin smirked and blocked the onslaught of slaps as Renjun retaliated.</p><p>“Yeah, I wonder,” the other snapped brusquely and he watched as Jaemin’s face collapsed with laughter, his eyes squinting closed and mouth open with the beam. Jaemin tucked his arm over Renjun’s build once again and the warmth that fluttered through him rose a light flush over his cheekbones.</p><p>“Don’t let it frustrate you, Renjun. I, for one, can’t hula hoop,” Jaemin smirked, leading the boy in a slow pace.</p><p>“The one thing I can hold over you,” Renjun’s voice was dry as he mimicked the other’s stride.</p><p>Jaemin pinched the boy at his side. “I could see you get worked up though. Everything takes at least a little practice and no one’s here to judge you.”</p><p>Guilt festered in Renjun’s stomach, “I know. I just can’t get the hang of it, and it’s not really for lack of trying. I mostly just feel bad that you can’t go on ahead anyway, I don’t really mind not being able to skate.”</p><p>“I don’t need to go anywhere,” Jaemin shrugged, “I happen to enjoy watching you struggle,” Jaemin teasingly nuzzled Renjun’s hair with his nose and the elder writhed away.</p><p>“You bother me,” Renjun said with a defeated sigh. A laugh shook Jaemin’s chest pressed against his side.</p><p>“It’s part of my charm, of course.”</p><p>“You don’t have a charm,” Renjun’s feet moved swiftly with Jaemin’s, a little less shamble with each step. Renjun smiled to himself, he wasn’t quite so frightened.</p><p>“That’s not true. I’m the resident flower boy; my entire face is my charm,” Jaemin gestured towards his features while shooting the shorter a wink.</p><p>“You look more like a weed to me,” Jaemin scowled.</p><p>“Don’t forget that I am the only reason you’re not on the ground right now.”</p><p>Renjun laughed, “Even your personality is foul.”</p><p>“I’m very tempted. It wouldn’t be my fault if you egged me on. That hardwood looks really appealing to you, huh?” Jaemin’s eyebrows were raised as he lifted his arms in a mock shove.</p><p>“I’ve made friends with the floor before, it’d be a long awaited reunion,” Renjun shrugged, his eyes glinting.</p><p>“Stop playing on my kindness,” Jaemin whined, a pout formed over his mouth, “You’re supposed to say, ‘no, please don’t push me, Jaemin! You’re the only thing I can rely on.’ That way I look good when I <em>don’t</em> push you.”</p><p>“I knew you were never planning on doing it,” Renjun grinned, his shoulders lifting.</p><p>“But now I just look like a push-over.”</p><p>“You’re soft,” Renjun giggled, his feet continued to move rather smoothly.</p><p>“Only for you,” Jaemin rubbed his forehead in a fit of pique. Renjun shook his head in amusement. The elder obscured his fingers as they twitched lightly with the younger’s tease. He pushed the familiar warmth from blossoming over his cheeks.</p><p>“I’m sure,” Renjun raised a brow sarcastically and shifted his gaze upward to glance over Jaemin’s features, Jaemin’s eyes met his. “Thank you.”</p><p>Jaemin quirked his head, “Okay? Yeah, you’re welcome,” he fumbled back, bafflement written clear on his profile. Renjun raised his eyebrows at the younger’s blundered speech. Jaemin’s rose in response, a small shrug creasing the pale skin of his neck. To Renjun he seemed to glow with luminescence that traced his features, his skin shaded blue and his light brown hair dark in the dim atmosphere. The boy born from a drop of honey colored stars seemed just then to resemble the silver of the moon.</p><p>Renjun’s heart stuttered as he stared into the face above him and he turned away suddenly, breaking from his sudden daze with the jumbled disarray of thoughts bubbling in his head. He laughed suddenly and glanced back upward to clear the pellucid emotions that sprung between their stilled figures. Renjun tugged Jaemin along. “Do I not thank you often?”</p><p>Jaemin’s eyes snapped clear with a blink, the glaze that had filled them dissipating. Renjun pushed his own thoughts away. “Huh?”</p><p>“I asked if I thanked you very often.”</p><p>“Oh –no, it’s not that. It’s just that I’m not entirely sure what you’re thanking me for, I guess?” Jaemin shrugged, skating alongside Renjun.</p><p>“You always help me,” Renjun flicked his eyes away from Jaemin’s. “And I know –you don’t need to tell me that you don’t mind. But genuinely, thank you. For being there all this time, I guess,” Renjun thumbed at the hem of his shirt, twisting it over his knuckles. “I hope that you can come to me too. Even if I’m not the most helpful, I want to try,” Renjun straightened and looked to the taller boy’s widened eyes, “For you, I want to be a better help.”</p><p>“You-,” Jaemin started. His eyes softened and he shut his mouth into a tight line. He reached for Renjun’s fiddling fist, wrenching the cloth from his hand and intertwining their fingers. “You help me with everything Renjun. I’ve always known you were here, there’s nothing you can do better that you don’t already excel at.”</p><p>Renjun looked away, pins and needles climbing up the hand Jaemin held. “Alright.”</p><p>“I know how hard this whole thing has been for you, pushing past everything at home, and I will always see that as the most important. You don’t deserve to live a life scared of all that, y’know?”</p><p>“Everything at home isn’t even the scariest thing anymore,” Renjun glanced to the floor, past their interlocked fingers.</p><p>“What is then?”</p><p>“Growing up.”</p><p>“Is Renjunnie ready to give up yet?” Renjun’s head snapped upward at the high pitched voice. Renjun dropped Jaemin’s hand and flipped the boy off.</p><p>“I was ready to give up the minute we stepped into this hellhole,” Donghyuck giggled and skated away from Mark’s side to nearly tackle the easily unsteadied boy.</p><p>“Such a shame that Chenle said he wanted to stay until closing,” Renjun flicked his eyes to the younger and settled him with a glare.</p><p>“Words have been placed in my mouth that were never there,” Chenle raised his hands, “I was ready to leave, I’m getting blisters,” the boy’s upper lip pulled with a whine as he bent to rub the afflicted ankle.</p><p>“Chenle,” Donghyuck turned, removing his arms from around the second eldest boy, “that’s where you go along with the joke.”</p><p>“You saw Renjun’s look. I don’t play with fire, not after lunch the other day,” Chenle faked a shudder. His voice lowered to a whisper, “the boy is ruthless.”</p><p>Renjun whined, a dejected glare pointed jokingly to the others “Don’t even pretend like I did anything, he was the brat.”</p><p>Jaemin nudged Renjun’s torso, leaning his head down closer to his ear, “What’d you do?” Renjun shoved against him jokingly with a teeter.</p><p>“Hyuck is always a brat. He has to stay true to his claim to fame,” Mark raised his eyebrows. Donghyuck looked to the betrayal with mocked epithet as he pounded his fist into an open hand. Jeno pulled Mark behind him with a look of mirth.</p><p>“You’ve provoked the beast,” Donghyuck scowled at the label.</p><p>“Why does Hyuck insist on violence?”</p><p>“Not everyone can have your cheery disposition, Jaems,” Renjun knocked his shoulder into the russet haired boy.</p><p>“I’m a ray of fucking sunshine,” Donghyuck spat to Renjun and the elder grimaced with his foul language.</p><p>“I can tell,” Jisung piped in. The boys had gathered into a circle, pushed to the corner of the rink as they had engaged amongst each other. Skaters whizzed past their swarm and forced Renjun forward as he tried to ward off the potentiality that anyone put themselves in harm’s way from their assemblage. Renjun glanced nervously to the bright orange shirts of those working, fear that they’d be yelled at for coagulating in the way of those skating ebbing at his nerves.</p><p>Renjun still found that conversation with those of authority –especially that consisting of scolding –ticked against his nerves excruciatingly. Even if he had improved in interaction with strangers, a rise in anyone’s temperament still deeply affected his anxiety.</p><p>“I’m called Full Sun for a reason,” the brunette screeched, his hands flailing slightly.</p><p>“Donghyuck, our little Haechan, full sun,” Renjun started with an exaggerated whisper, the boys’ eyes turning to rest on him, “you are a ray of fucking sunshine.”</p><p>A smile burst over the boy’s heart-shaped lips, crinkling his eyes as he tilted his head to the side. He brought his hands to cup his jaw, “I know,” he pitched his voice higher, his nose crinkling, and the boys groaned at his display.</p><p>“Now can we please get off the rink if we’re done? We seem to be a bit in the way.”</p><p>Renjun stumbled forward after the retreating backs of the boys, working hard to recall the image of Jaemin’s smooth slide. A hand cupped his and Renjun smiled toward the familiar snugness. He began to step, the comfort of Jaemin’s palm abating the fear of slipping, and found himself moving much more smoothly over the waxed hardwood and onto the marbled tile back to their claimed table. Jaemin dropped his hand only when he’d been seated fully. Renjun moved to pull off the uncomfortable skates.</p><p>“So, I’m starved? And could use a mean piece of pizza,” at Chenle’s mention of pizza Jisung pointed toward the vendor, premade scraps of thin flat bread laid in a glowing red oven, “-not from here, you tasteless <em>rat</em>. Does that <em>look</em> mean to you,” Chenle faked a retch and shoved Jisung’s shoulder. “It’s still my birthday and I suggest we buy <em>good, expensive</em> slices.”</p><p>“Because God knows we’ve got the money,” Mark replied flatly.</p><p>“Sorry you’re a poor college freshman without daddy’s trust fund,” Chenle snarled sardonically, pulling out his wallet. “Birthday boy will pay, but I do expect compensation in the gifts you got me,” Chenle’s brows rose.</p><p>“So that means I’ll be paying for myself,” Jisung attested, “I don’t think you’d find a twenty-dollar bill adequate enough.”</p><p>Chenle smacked him, “You better be joking. If you stuck a wad of cash in a birthday card as my gift it’ll be the last gift you ever give."</p><p>“Thank God, I don’t think I can afford buying anything more. I need less friends, or at least less with birthdays,” Jisung rubbed his temple dolefully.</p><p>“Let me know how that works out for you,” Mark quirked his brow at the younger’s proclamation.</p><p>Jaemin grinned from beside Renjun, “I got you candy.”</p><p> </p><p>x.</p><p>It was a bad day. There had been a lot of bad days recently.</p><p>His parents had returned early Saturday morning, the slam of the front door startling him awake and into a seated position. He rubbed his sleep crusted eyes, his hair in disarray and matted to the side of his scalp. He strained his ears to what had woken him, a yawn wracking his frame as he bent his neck in a stretch.</p><p>The dull sunlight that streamed through his open windows told the boy of the measly hour, the gleam of white glinting brilliantly over his bare walls and casting the corners in shadow. A soft padding of snow covered the ground in wintry white and muffled the sounds to silence; each crystalline flake glinted against the horizon in the early morning sun as sugar in a metallic bowl of gray. The silence –it made the house all the more loud.</p><p>Renjun’s feet touched the ground, his eyes wide as he glanced to the door of his bedroom, ajar and pointed directly on a framed photograph. It was a family of four, their half-mooned faces filled with cheer and youth. The two adults stood tall, their shoulders folded backward with pride and love blooming over their faces in a pink flush. The man was tall, his hair jet-black and a gray suit trimmed his body, and the woman inches lesser so, her hair pulled into a long braid and her skin tanned. At their feet were two boys. One boy was rather small, his frame covered in a knit blanket of soft yellow, almost lemon, where he hunched on the floor. His eyes were trained somewhere behind the camera, having caught a hint of motion there. The other was notably older, a bright smile on his face as he stared into the camera lens. They appeared a common family.</p><p>Renjun stood at the window, fearing the click of his door were he to push it shut. The snow that coated the deadened carpet of grass continued to sleepily float in flurries of white from above, the clouds of gray endless over the far-reaching sky. The white flakes fell obliquely from the horizon, a soft but constant wind pushing them to tap against glass panes and nestle in a steadily climbing wall of diamonds against it. The wide landscape of trees and backyard was oddly disfigured in the snowy spread; the world appeared dangerously cold.</p><p>Renjun wondered over how the powdered mounds would feel over the pads of his cracked hands, the thick pillows numbing the skin with cold and sending dull aches into the joints. He’d fluff the clumped heaps; the pure surface marred by the brush of his fingertips and pulled away to reveal the hidden crop of rock and grass and dirt. The pale white would smile roguishly upon the small boy, as if nothing more than milk on the floor as he’d rested his shuddering fingers into the plush ice.</p><p>Renjun thought maybe he’d make a snow angel. He could slip from the window and fall onto the cushion of white. He could let his knees crumple below him and sink into the luxurious mattress as he laid his head back, wet dripping into his hair and stinging the skin of his neck with the movement of his bare arms and feet. His legs would tingle with the press of melting ice and red would blossom like a rose over his skin. The bluster of wind would send the flakes dancing over him, melting in kisses of cold over his closed eyelids and settling in the wet of his eyelashes, their chaos calming only to settle around his splayed frame, glinting all shades the rainbow under the sunshine that broke through the heavy clouds.</p><p>“What did he take?” the rushed voices from the hall pulled the boy from his stupor. His eyes flickered over the feathery crystals as he winced away from the open door of his room. Maybe if he made a snow angel he could melt with the water around him, he could become something as beautiful as the blanket bestowed over the ground.</p><p>“What did you take?” his mother’s voice was shrill, fear laced through it and Renjun ran his hands through the strands of his hair. He was tired. His hair was ridden with grease; he couldn’t remember when he’d last cleaned it, when he’d last fully risen from the daze of oblivion that surrounded his descent into the darkness that used to plague his every move.</p><p>He could get better again. He would –for Jaemin.</p><p><em>Jaemin</em>, Renjun mused, <em>why should Jaemin deal with this? Why should Jaemin be pulled along with the darkness?</em> Guilt smoldered in Renjun’s gut. He was so undeserving of the younger; he pulled him under and smothered him. He used him.</p><p>Renjun shook his head, eyes stinging as he glanced to the ceiling of his room. He was wrong; he’d been through this before. He’d pulled through. Renjun fisted his hands into his hair, tugging with a soft force. He pulled as if to rid the thoughts from his brain. He yanked as if to clear the darkness that clouded him. He tore as if to remove the memories that haunted the walls of his heart.</p><p>The small boy collapsed to the floor, his breath heavy and erratic as he rocked himself forward and back. Wet stained his cheeks and strung itself in the dark lashes of his eyes. The wet was unlike the sweet touch of snowflakes, unlike the smooth burn of melting crystalline flakes. The wet was salty and stinging, choking a knot in his throat and glopping over his face in continuous streams of agony.</p><p>“I’ll kill him,” Renjun’s head shot up at the nearing voice of his brother, “he’ll call the police on me again. I’ll kill him before he can.”</p><p>Renjun stood suddenly at the shouts of his mother. She called her son’s name, which son Renjun wasn’t sure. His brain barely registered the sounds that flung around the house. Renjun’s sobs gagged him and he turned. The lock of his window was undone, rigged as a child to remain permanently so, and Renjun’s bare feet dropped into the icy cold.</p><p>Renjun ran. He ran from the danger of his brother, from the suffocating walls of his home, from the atmosphere of panic and fear.</p><p>Mostly, Renjun ran from himself. He ran from the boy of his past who’d sucked lemon candy like it was the only thing stringing him to world. He ran from the boy who ignored others for the sake of saving himself from the fear that shrouded simple conversation. He ran from the boy who’d grown to fall for the only thing he didn’t want –the only thing he feared to choke with his darkness.</p><p>Because Jaemin’s smile of starlight didn’t deserve to be extinguished by Renjun’s snuffing mind.</p><p>Renjun ran until his lungs screamed for leisure and his legs ached with an inability to continue forward. The white sugar of the snow slipped between his toes and pinched the pads of his feet. Limbs and roots masked by the wintry blanket of ivory tripped him where they jutted, slicing into his shins and snagging at his pants.</p><p>The ebony-haired boy was vaguely aware of the gashes that dug into his numbed feet, sliced open with the burn of ice and rugged undergrowth. The snow soiled with the tracks of red he left. Renjun felt mad, insanity ebbing at the edges of his vision with each force of his foot over the icy ridges of the forest floor. Each step sent a shock of pain shooting through his joints, his knees near buckling with ache that tore through them, but Renjun couldn’t bring himself to care.</p><p>All Renjun can hear was white noise; the quietude of snow illuminating the rush of blood through his ears, the drumming of his heart echoed in his rapid footsteps. Renjun’s breath loomed before him in a blur of gray over the white backdrop of feathers. The trees seemed to curve around the ugly duckling, caging him in with arms snagging over his skin, over his cotton shirt.</p><p>Renjun collapsed into the clearing, the sob that broke from his throat tearing through the silent forest. Dark wood surrounded him with the soak of slush, humps of white clouds weighing upon the sturdy limbs and threatening to spill over onto the boy, burying him beneath. Renjun wished they would.</p><p>The boy rolled onto his back, his eyes glazed as he stared into the looming gray of the sky, dark despite the early height of the sun it worshipped –dark and tasting of ash and dried rice, of lukewarm milk.</p><p>Not blueberries.</p><p>Renjun rested his eyes over the tips of the branches, rich with wet and coated in a dusting of diamonds. The branches that touched the sky –stroked the sun and glimmered with crystals and beauty. Renjun thought he’d like very much to glitter. He’d like to hold the warmth of the stars in his hands, spread them over toast like honey.</p><p>But darkness didn’t glimmer, darkness was opaque and dull.</p><p>And darkness had no place near the light of stars.</p><p>Renjun closed his eyes and spread his arms, carving the snow away with the force of his separating arms and feet.</p><p> </p><p>A blackish blue engulfed Renjun even with his eyes wide open. The shadowy blanket of the galaxy above enfolded him as he lay sunken into the white around him. Snow had piled around his form, glowing blue in the moonlight that dripped in pools over the sleeping forest. The blur of white dust blinded the night with its diagonal onslaught and melted over the warmth of his cold flushed skin. Renjun shook with chills, his body temperature cooled dangerously from the hours buried slowly with frost.</p><p>Renjun realized it was the crunching of footsteps that had dragged the boy, his body stark against the blank canvas of ice-white, from his fever dream tormented rest. The sound stood distinct and harsh with the barren tranquility, accompanied by the drilling of rapid gasping. Renjun remained unmoving and watched the fall of white, felt it penetrate the little warmth of his skin.</p><p>The hurried footsteps stopped feet away from his supine form. Still, Renjun glared through the blinding white. His eyes stung against the cold.</p><p>“Renjun,” the boy beside him spoke, the word breathy and rasped. Renjun watched the pale breath unfurl above him.</p><p>“Renjun, what have you done?” the voice collapsed beside him, warmth from body heat stinging the dark-haired boy’s hypothermic figure. Renjun wondered if maybe he couldn’t move, maybe his silence wasn’t voluntary.</p><p>A hand burned over Renjun’s skin, the warmth severe and sweltering to the chilled boy. A shiver wracked his frame. Renjun looked to the moon. It was pale, a silver more radiant than that of the winter world around him. It was wondrous to the boy, ethereal and lament. Its silken tendrils of pearly light brushed against the pale cheek that rested upward, bitten with winter.</p><p>“Renjun,” the voice was lighter then, less frantic and vexed. A hand slid over Renjun’s forehead, a trail of fire washing away the cold and grasping the kiss of silvery moonlight. Water slicked his temples, melted snow wetting the hair that rested there, and it slid slowly down his face, tickling past his ears. Hands cupped his cheeks, rustled through the damp of his hair, and swiped away the droplets of cold that clung to his lashes. “Renjun, what have you done?” the soft sound repeated.</p><p>Renjun just wanted to shimmer.</p><p>“I made a snow angel,” the voice was foreign, croaked and shaking with the tremors that shrouded his body.</p><p>“Yes, yes, you have,” the voice continued softly, stroking thumbs over the flushed cheeks. The moonlight licked the water over his skin.</p><p>Renjun hoped he glowed.</p><p>The blazing touch that caressed his jaw slipped below his neck and burned into the space between his shoulders. Renjun felt himself lifted, the press of twill against his cheek as he shut his eyes. His shoulders slouched as he grabbed onto the torso that held his weight upright and seated; warmth flooded him.</p><p>Renjun surveyed the blue of his nails, resting weakly over the shoulder he’d leant onto. The cold had near blackened them, the white of his hands ghostly and crinkled. Renjun wondered at whether he’d become frostbitten; the ice against his appendages, denuded of gloves and exposed to the bitter air for hours. A shiver wracked his body and he winced at the insistent chatter of his teeth, grinding and shocking upward into his skull.</p><p>“Renjun, you need to get to somewhere warmer,” the body heat of the boy he clung onto began to thaw the bafflement of his conscious, clearing the fog to a state of slightly less confusion. Renjun shifted away slightly, the snow that piled in hills around him shifting and cracking with the pressure of his movement. He was sickly aware of the blistering wet that soaked through his sweats, pasted the fabric over him like a second skin. The arms that held him tightened, trapped.</p><p>“I think I’d like to stay a little longer,” Renjun tilted his head upward to the sky, gazed through the blinding assault of white to the purple night. The ebony sky swirled with a surplus of pitch dark purples and blues, the twirling of crystals illuminated with the reflection of starlight against the world of white. It was the sparkle of white shells over black sand.</p><p>Renjun’s harshly shaking hand stretched away from his sides. Pinpricks sprung onto his palm with the careening torrent and the soft curl of calm settled in his gut. The snow blessed the small boy with its early spring-melt over his flesh. Renjun studied the outstretched limb, watching the settle of sugar with a small smile. A hand enraptured his frosted palm and melted the freeze of his fingers. It was smooth and pale, the digits long and thin with a radiating heat that expelled the exhaustion and loneliness of winter. Renjun trailed over the arm and met a pair of saddened eyes.</p><p>“Renjun, let’s go home.”</p><p>“I am home.”</p><p>“Then let’s go away,” Renjun tilted his head, glancing his eyes to the distance over Jaemin’s shoulder. White haloed the light-haired boy; branches curled in blue darkness and shaped an arctic crown over his disheveled hair. Renjun watched the glinting diamonds settle over his shoulder and disappear into the dark cloth. “Let’s go out together.”</p><p>“You don’t need to help me,” Renjun glanced into the eyes before him, a forlorn smile curling softly over him. His head felt heavy and he let himself mourn with the confusion that stole across Jaemin’s mouth.</p><p>“Renjun, your mom called me,” Renjun tilted his head. Jaemin lifted his hands and cupped the elder’s small jaw. “They couldn’t<em> find</em> you.”</p><p>“I can’t go back there.”</p><p>“Renjun, it’s safe now,” Renjun shook his head, a tear sliced through his frigid skin, burning a trail of wetness that was attacked with wind.<br/>
“It’s never safe there.”</p><p>“Renjun, can’t you believe me?” Renjun yanked his face backward, a stumble with his own forcefulness jarring him. His hand sunk into the stabbing ice. Jaemin’s face morphed with dread as the other scuffled away. “Renjun, it’s cold-.”</p><p>“I can’t go back,” Renjun voice was a whisper, breathy and hushed below the wind. “It’s so dark. I can’t escape all the dark.”</p><p>“Renjun-.”</p><p>“You want me to go back but I can’t. You should- you should go. You don’t need to turn dark too. You don’t deserve that. I like it here, there’s beauty in the darkness here.” Renjun’s eyes skirted over the black trees, glittering with the shine of the moon. He looked to the frozen blanket of ice-white crystals, dripping blue in the darkness of the cowering night. He looked to the galaxy above, black swallowing the world around, but the sprinkling of white that flittered through the sky shining like gemstones.</p><p>“Renjun, there’s beauty in all darkness,” Jaemin’s voice was hushed, gentle like the snaking touch of moonlight and glow of early morning sunlight.</p><p>“No- no, there’s not. There’s no beauty in most. It’s suffocating and it’s all-consuming,” Renjun’s head shook rapidly.</p><p>“Renjun, the darkness is what shows the light. It’s what makes stars shine.”</p><p>“But there’s no beauty <em>in</em> darkness. Darkness is just so horribly detestable that it makes everything else drastic and only shows what it<em> can’t</em> be.”</p><p>“But isn’t that what makes it beautiful?” Renjun’s head continued to shake softly, “Darkness is what allows you to glimmer. You can glimmer, Renjun.”</p><p>A retch broke from Renjun’s throat, his stomach twisting painfully. He sunk his wetted hands into his slick hair, running them over his face as he rocked gently.</p><p>“I can’t.”</p><p>“Renjun, you’re shining now,” Renjun shook his head, his hands held tightly over the wet of his skin.</p><p>“Jaemin, I’m smothering. And I’m <em>so tired</em>. I don’t need you to be tired too. I’ll just dim your light, you shouldn’t be near me. You’ll just get jaded and hateful.”</p><p>“Renjun, you don’t smother-.”</p><p>“I do!” Renjun shouted, his hands broke away from his face and he slammed them into the ground. He tipped his head back, glaring into the sky. “I do, everything around me dies. I can’t- I can’t ruin you too.”</p><p>“You act as if I can be ruined. Renjun, I’m not an object, stop treating me like you can stain me,” Jaemin reached for the curled boy but the elder just shook his head.</p><p>“I will ruin you.”</p><p>“You will ruin yourself.”</p><p>“I already have.”</p><p>“You haven’t, Renjun. You’re not the darkness that surrounds you. We’ve been through this,” Jaemin’s grasp was inescapable, warming Renjun’s blistered skin with the assault of his hands.</p><p>“I’m just a broken record.”</p><p>“You’re a flower,” Renjun glanced upward, a silent prayer for relief.</p><p>“I’m a crushed petal.”</p><p>“A crushed petal still retains its color.”</p><p>Sobs wracked his body as he pulled away. The tightening of his chest was imposing as it worsened. “Why do you insist on hurting yourself for me?”</p><p>“I’d rather me hurt than you,” Renjun twisted, his stomach was in knots and his throat scraped with each swallow of bile. He felt sick.</p><p>“You can’t- you can’t do that. I deserve this, I- I brought this on myself. You deserve to shine, you shouldn’t care for me,” Renjun’s eyes stung. He found himself enjoying the frigid kiss that flooded his aching bones; it numbed the roar of his head and gnawed at the sleep that touched the edges of his vision, white stars dancing alongside the frenzy of feathered slush.</p><p>“Renjun, how can you say you brought this on yourself, you’re the victim-.”</p><p>“I called the police, Jaemin. That’s why we left Jilin. I- I was mad and scared and I didn’t <em>understand</em>. So I called the police and-,” Renjun rubbed his eyes, a heavy sigh pulled at his words and he lifted his knees to his chest, “God, I called them and they came to investigate my brother. They were going to take either him or <em>me</em> away and so we had to leave. My brother- he’d been in an accident and someone was killed and it looked so bad. And so we had to leave everything.”</p><p>Renjun shook his head. He felt small, the vast rapture of white distorting the size of the world around him. “He threatened to kill me for it.”</p><p>“Renjun, that’s in no way an excuse for the hatred you’ve faced. You called the cops for your own safety, your brother is <em>horrible</em> –he was so even before. You can’t blame the situation you grew up in on yourself.”</p><p>“Even if I didn’t, even it wasn’t my fault that he’s grown so much worse, I still can’t escape it all, and I’ll still hurt you. I’m hopeless, I’ve tried- I’ve tried so hard to improve, to expel it from my life. But I am the darkness.” Renjun shoulders shook with silent sobs as his face streamed with tears.</p><p>“You’re not. You’re the stars that stand in the darkness but still burn. You’re the moon,” Renjun wondered if maybe he could be the moon, if the star that stroked his cheek helped him to shine with its accompaniment. But the star didn’t deserve to work twice as hard to make the light of the moon.</p><p>“You can’t keep letting me rely on you,” Renjun winced as Jaemin’s hand stilled.</p><p>“You don’t rely on me enough, Renjun. You don’t need to provide everything for yourself.”</p><p>“You don’t need to provide everything for others.”</p><p>“I don’t.”</p><p>“You do for me.”</p><p>“I do for you,” Renjun squeezed his eyes shut.</p><p>“Stop,” his voice was a rasp, nearly hidden by the swirl of winter gale and the wail of snow. His hands shook and a small tear slid from his cheek. Renjun was tired; he was tired of running –from what he wasn’t sure. He thought maybe it was the darkness he was tired of running from. Maybe he’d let himself be swept under again, the flip of a wave crashing him below the surface. Maybe then he’d be less tired of running, maybe no longer running toward the light would provide a half-heartened relief. He knew he still wouldn’t be able to catch his breath. “Stop doing that.”</p><p>“Doing what?” Jaemin’s hand resumed its pursuit in returning warmth to Renjun.</p><p>“Trying to help me,” Renjun shifted his weight away from the younger boy.</p><p>“I won’t until you’re better.”</p><p>“It doesn’t get better.”</p><p>“It can, you just won’t let it.”</p><p>“I <em>can’t</em> let it!” Renjun voice was sharp and his face agitated. “Every time it gets better, it only gets worse again. Every time I push the dark away it only comes flooding back stronger.”</p><p>“Renjun, every time you push the dark away <em>you</em> get stronger. You’ve seen how good it can get, but it will always be there. But it won’t always be a <em>part</em> of <em>you</em>, simply your past,” the elder boy studied the taller’s face. He didn’t understand the unrelenting faith he saw there, the fierce disposition of utter confidence in the boy, his eyes fervent.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because it’s scarred you, it’s not something you will ever not feel the after effect of. You grew up in constant <em>fear</em>, Renjun. Let yourself heal so you’re not scared anymore,” Renjun shook his head, his brow furrowed.</p><p>“No, I mean, why are you always here? Why do you this all for me?” Jaemin glanced away.</p><p>“You’re my best friend, and I-,” Jaemin’s eyes fluttered closed, hesitation hindering his voice with a hitch, “and I love you.”</p><p>Jaemin’s eyes broke open and he stared slightly behind a shrinking Renjun. Jaemin snapped his eyes toward the cowering boy, to his chapped knuckles and wide eyes. Jaemin reached for the elder’s hand and interlocked their fingers.</p><p>“Because all I really know is how to love you.”</p><p>Renjun wrenched his hand backward and stumbled to his feet. His bare feet were numb with cold, they felt leaden as he pushed backward, pushed away. His eyes fumbled for something to latch onto, to the trees, to the forest floor, to the blur of snowfall. They landed on Jaemin’s face. Hurt laced his expression as he cradled his emptied hand to his chest. Renjun flexed his fingers, trying to remove the feeling that sent his chest bursting with warmth and his heart stuttering.</p><p>“You can’t,” he whispered, his feet inching backward, “I won’t let you. You can’t- I won’t let myself smother you. I won’t let you experience that.”</p><p>Renjun continued to inch backward, his eyes scanned over the seated boy, to the injured look he cast upward at the elder. Renjun was only sure of one thing. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he got there. He wasn’t sure how to say goodbye.</p><p>But he wouldn’t let the darkness swallow the stars of the night sky.</p><p>He was tired as he lugged himself away, his knees clicked with every bend and the arch of his foot ached with each step, no shoe to support him as he stepped over unruly vines and protruding roots. He felt like he was walking on sand, his steps slipping over the small particles of ice. Each step forward sent his muscles grinding with the effort to retain balance.</p><p>He was skating again, his feet unsteady under him as he placed them heavily into the crunch of snow.<em> Just slide your feet.</em> Renjun pushed his weight forward, leaping in speed so as to lighten the effort of his feet pounding into the ground. The slipping lessened as his calves burned. Renjun pumped his arms, ignored the ache of his chest and the knot of his throat.</p><p>He ran for miles, the clenching pain of his legs lessening as he approached where the snow was stamped down, frozen in blocks of impenetrable ice. The wind that whipped past his racing figure slapped into the cold of his face and tussled his hair. He felt himself warm with the exertion, his eyes heavy and fingers aching with even the slightest movement.</p><p>He ran until his feet were shredded further and he tripped, his knee bashing into the asphalt. Under the dim glow of the distant streetlight he could see the white of lifted skin and the blossoming of bleed. He knew where he’d run to from the large maple that loomed over his crumpled form. The houses on the road were set a vast distance away from neighboring residences, street lamps placed few and far between. A small house, littered with trees that shielded the porch from view, stood a slight distance from the boy.</p><p>Renjun pulled a harmless rock from beside the paved road and then a second. He lifted his arm and tossed upward –once, twice. A second light flipped on to brighten the dimly lit room and slanted blinds lifted slightly. Renjun shifted his weight as he fiddled his hands.</p><p>A door swung open and a brown-haired stepped into the porchlight.</p><p>“Renjun? I half expected someone else,” the figure basked in darkness mumbled. “Why aren’t you at home?” Renjun glanced away from the questioning stare, shoving his hands into the pocket of his pants. It did nothing to alleviate the cold tension that seized them, finding the slot wet.</p><p>“It’s kind of complicated? I just needed a place to go,” the older boy could feel the weight of the perplexed gaze rest over his shoulders.</p><p>“Why didn’t you go to Jaemin? Not to make it seem like you’re unwanted it’s just- a text would’ve been nice, I’m not sure if it’s the best time,” Donghyuck studied the slumped boy before casting his eyes to glance further down the road. He shifted nervously on his feet as he studied behind Renjun. “I didn’t really think I was someone you’d go to for help.”</p><p>“If I’m honest, I didn’t either,” Renjun mumbled, glancing toward the worried boy, “I haven’t been home since this morning, and I left my phone. There’s stuff going on that I haven’t told everyone, y’know? I told- I can’t go to Jaemin,” Renjun’s lips were pressed into a tight line.</p><p>Donghyuck tilted his head. “Alright,” he said slowly, “take you shoes-,” the boy stopped as his eyes caught his lack of shoes, “Renjun, your feet.” Donghyuck stepped forward, looking at the elder with confusion before he retreated and pulled the door wide. Renjun walked into the quiet house.</p><p>“My siblings are asleep,” Donghyuck whispered, “and my parents aren’t home but they’ll be back in the morning so wait here while I get a towel for your feet. So you don’t, y’know, stain the carpet with blood,” Donghyuck gestured in exasperation to the condition of Renjun’s feet. Renjun stayed quiet.</p><p>Renjun surveyed the house with Donghyuck further down the hall. He’d had been there before, stood in the exact entryway alongside the rest of his friends as Donghyuck darted up the stairs in a beeline for the hoodie he’d claimed he needed in his closet. It was a cozy home, adorned with pretty pottery and artwork, a small chest of deep wood opposite the front door. Renjun felt shame settle over his gut; he knew it was late, though an exact time he couldn’t say, and he was forcing Donghyuck to provide for him. Renjun knew he had no place else to go.</p><p>The aforementioned boy returned, his hands covered with a dark blue, soaked towel. Renjun reached for it and Donghyuck settled it over the boys palms, the heat of the kitchen sink water seeping from the cloth into Renjun’s sore knuckles and he winced at the feeling that flooded them. The boy stooped down, running the towel over the caked blood and hissing with the sting that followed.</p><p>“Renjun, I’m not going to ask, okay?” the boy kept his eyes trained on his injured limbs, his head ducked as he nodded.</p><p>“Yeah, okay.”</p><p>“However,<em> I</em> am not sleeping on the floor so you can have a fun time with that,” Renjun snorted softly though remained with his mouth shut. He didn’t think he’d be getting very much sleep anyway.</p><p>Renjun followed the boy up the stairs, his thighs protesting with the additional movement, and stepped into the darkened room. Donghyuck began to throw things from the bed and onto the floor, his movements done with an almost practiced ease of constant repetition and Renjun quirked a brow in curiosity: a spare blanket, a pillow. The boy glanced upward from his rampage. His eyes skimmed over Renjun’s figure.</p><p>“I’ll get you some sweatpants and a hoodie too.” Renjun opened his mouth but the other flung his closet door open quickly and grappled for two random articles, tossing them in the elder’s direction.</p><p>“Home-sweet-home then,” Donghyuck gestured his hands toward the pile on the floor with a heart-shaped grin. “I’ll be off to bed then, go lock yourself in the closet or something to change. Or I’ll watch,” the boy raised his eyebrows and Renjun’s lips tugged downward.</p><p>“Donghyuck.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll stop. I don’t like to acknowledge serious things, Renjun.”</p><p>“I know, Donghyuck.”</p><p>The boy tilted his head and pursed his heart lips. His face scrunched with contemplation as he rubbed the inside of his wrist, against the soft skin of his pulse. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“You said you wouldn’t ask,” Renjun turned, slipping the damp shirt over his head and pulling on the warmth of Donghyuck’s sweater.</p><p>“I wasn’t except that it’s all tangible and I’m not getting the feel of a very joking persona going here. I have the capability of caring too,” Donghyuck didn’t halt the rubbing of his wrist, “I’m not heartless. I also have to say something when your feet are cut up and your back looks like it’s burnt.”</p><p>“I can’t talk about all that,” Renjun worried his lip.</p><p>“So then tell me about Jaemin,” Renjun scrunched his brow and turned away.</p><p>“He cares about me too much.”</p><p>“Jaemin cares about everyone too much –he has since before he moved away.” Donghyuck shrugged, his gaze questioning toward the boy who seemed to care just as much as he accused the other, “It’s who he is.”</p><p>“But he needs to stop caring about <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“Why should he do that?” Donghyuck’s gaze was steady over the fidgeting boy, almost accusatory.</p><p>“Because I’ll just hurt him –you know him, Donghyuck. He’s like you; he’s always so light and happy. He can’t lose that, he shouldn’t ever have to. And I’d take that away from him. I’d kill it.” Renjun felt his chest ache as he grasped at his hands, fingers picking into the skin beside his thumbnail.</p><p>“Why do you get to care and he doesn’t?”</p><p>Renjun flinched away from the words, his eyes wide as he looked to Donghyuck. The brown-haired boy shrugged.</p><p>“I mean it’s only fair,” Donghyuck tilted his head back and swirled his head in a circle on his shoulders. “I’ve known Jaemin for forever. The boy is better around you than without, and it’s not at all my place but- he makes you happier, too. Basically, my point is that if you want the best for Jaemin, I’d think about how he’d be <em>without</em> you, not how he <em>could</em> be with you,” Donghyuck leveled a stare at the older boy before he turned onto his side. “I’m going to sleep now, please shut off the light before you start stripping. As much as I’d <em>love</em> an eyeful of your boxers, I’m tired and I think that’d scar me too much to rest.”</p><p>Renjun stood still for a moment, gaze resting on Donghyuck’s turned back before he stepped to the side, pulling a hand down the white switch and submerging the room in black. Renjun lay on his back.</p><p>Jaemin needed freedom, he needed a clear sky. And no matter what Donghyuck claimed –Renjun didn’t provide that.</p><p>Renjun was black marble and shadowy corners –a sky that obscured the stars.</p><p> </p><p>xi.</p><p>Renjun woke the next morning to silence. The floor beneath him was hard as he pushed up into a seated position, his muscles groaning from the exertion the prior day. He had chills, sweat pooling in Donghyuck’s hoodie and slicking his hair flat against his cheek from the surplus of blankets that had been wrapped over him. The bed beside him was empty, the blinds pulled back and sunlight streaming into the bright room. Renjun glanced to the window as his stomach lurched from the movement.</p><p>The snow had stopped falling, the ground coated in a vast array of white and silver. Track marks slid over the road, flattening the puff of cotton-like freeze with its pressured weight and souring the snow yellow with dirt. The slope of roof below Donghyuck’s bedroom window was skimmed with glimmering white, dancing rainbows with the effort of the sun to melt away the cold.</p><p>Renjun’s head pounded in the blinding light that reflected off the white and he turned his head away, staring to the bare wall of Donghyuck’s room. It was painted a pale blue, scuffs from tape marring its empty surface from where paper had been hung.</p><p>The door beside it swung open and Renjun turned, his vision hazy. The brown-haired boy walked in slowly, peering to the boy with his arms curled over his knees. A small glass of water was clutched in his tan hands and Renjun swallowed, his throat scratching.</p><p>“Oh, good you actually woke up.”</p><p>Renjun cocked his head, “Why wouldn’t I have?”</p><p>“Well, considering it’s five o’clock, I got a <em>cryptic</em> text from Jaemin, and you woke me up horribly sick in the night, <em>very</em> out of it. It’s a sign of hypothermia –nausea. Exactly how long were you out in the cold?” Donghyuck spoke the last part aloud as a question, though he didn’t wait for a response, stepping forward toward the boy and setting the water beside him, a hand outstretched to rest against his neck. “Your pulse isn’t weak –I did so much research last night you wouldn’t believe me.”</p><p>Renjun took the water from Donghyuck, sipping slowly until his throat was coated with its quench. Renjun cleared his throat and glanced to the younger.</p><p>“What do you mean, cryptic?”</p><p>Donghyuck lifted his hips from the floor and slipped his phone from the pocket, resting it in his palm. His thumb scrolled down as he read up into their texts. “‘If Renjun is with you –his brother isn’t at home. He should know’.” Donghyuck glanced upward, meeting the narrowed eyes of Renjun, his mouth twisted in thought.</p><p>“What did you say?”</p><p>“‘Well, aren’t you cryptic?’” Renjun snorted softly, rolling his eyes. His lips drew to a tight line.</p><p>“Alright, well, I’ll get out of your hair then –and your parents’, if they’re back,” Renjun removed the emptied glass from his tight grip, set it onto the makeshift night stand above him, and pushed his weight into the hand placed over the carpeted floor as he tried to ease himself up. His head spun with the movement and he squeezed his eyes shut at the sick that wrenched his stomach. A hand pushed him down softly.</p><p>“With potential hypothermia, you don’t need to go anywhere. I told Mark not to come over today so you wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone. You don’t get to leave <em>at least</em> until he would’ve, ruining my plans with my best friend,” Donghyuck grumbled jokingly with a tsk and Renjun’s lip curled in a frown.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Donghyuck shrugged, “I’m just showing you that you won’t ‘ruin’ everyone, as you so call it. It’s my job –as your friend.” Renjun glanced away, his hand pulling at the other.</p><p>“Right, yeah,” Renjun glanced to the ceiling. Donghyuck sighed.</p><p>“Well, I’m making soup –it’s probably bubbled over by now because you’re<em> such</em> a distraction. So I can bring it up to you in a minute. It’ll be good to get some substance in you; your face is really pale.”</p><p>“You don’t have to bring it up, I can come down-,” Renjun started. A hand settled over his shoulder and he looked up to Donghyuck.</p><p>“Let <em>someone</em> take care of you for once, Renjun, even if you still don’t let Jaemin. You need to learn that you deserve more that you take,” Donghyuck stood and Renjun remained poised to stand, though unmoving. Donghyuck pointed toward a closed door, “That’s the bathroom if you feel sick again,” he retreated into the hallway and Renjun sighed.</p><p>He dropped onto his back and stared upward, fiddling with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.</p><p>A part of him felt that Donghyuck couldn’t be wrong; Jaemin had still blossomed into the shining, charismatic boy he’d always been, even with years of friendship to the elder. He’d still always been there with his glowing smile and hopeful disposition even in the days when Renjun couldn’t so much as muster a ‘hello’. He’d taken Renjun’s mood swings and dark days in stride, coming out brighter on the other side alongside Renjun.</p><p>But another part of him knew that Jaemin was selfless; even if Renjun’s emotions brought him down, even if he needed to talk about himself instead, he wouldn’t. He’d sit and he’d listen. And on the inside, Jaemin would wither. And Renjun <em>couldn’t</em> let Jaemin wither. He couldn’t let his sparkle lessen as he tried to make Renjun’s grow.</p><p>Some people just weren’t meant to glow.</p><p>In his heart, Renjun knew how he felt –he knew that he was selfish and wanted nothing more than to steal away to Jaemin. He wanted nothing more than to cherish his warmth as he did the sun over his skin. To cherish the boy who smelt of cherries and smiled like the stars.</p><p>He’d known since the boys had sat atop their treehouse, Renjun’s eyes red with tears and Jaemin’s smile bright and warming. He’d known since his heart had begun to stutter and his mind jumble. Renjun felt like it was a secret he’d kept for years, and truthfully it had been years. But it had never been a secret.</p><p>Renjun’s heart had been displayed on his sleeve with each tear he shed, his body tensed and hands grasping Jaemin’s like a landline of interlocked fingers –with every small smile filled with lemon flavored bliss. He’d pronounced his feelings with every laugh, every delighted shove or angry exchange. With every whispered joke, he’d told Jaemin he cared more than he ever should. Renjun had long since fallen for the boy who liked bitter lettuce and black coffee.</p><p>And he’d long since convinced himself that those feelings were to be shoved aside. He’d told himself that even if the younger felt the same, being with Renjun was much more harmful than it was useful.</p><p>Renjun sighed and ran his blistered hands over his face, squishing the skin in frustration. There’d been a before Jaemin, he could survive an after.</p><p>It’d be like living without a piece of himself.</p><p>Renjun swiped at a stray tear and sniffed, clenching his toes in distraction from the burn of his chest.</p><p>The world without Jaemin would be dull. It’d be a scone without orange marmalade, a biscuit without honey. It’d lack the galaxies of his smile and the warmth of his enveloping hand. It’d be empty without the tall oak tree and small platform –without the taste of lemon and the crinkle of a pocket full of wrappers.</p><p>Donghyuck set the steaming bowl beside Renjun’s reclined form as he gazed up to the ceiling, his mind lost to his thoughts.</p><p>“You alright?” Renjun glanced slowly to Donghyuck. He nodded as his lips pulled to the side in a pout, rubbing beneath his chin. His face was pensive as he looked to the steaming bowl, carrots and white meat floating in the broth.</p><p>“Thank you,” Renjun propped himself upward and cradled the hot ceramic in his palms. He swirled the spoon and looked toward Donghyuck, “I’ll owe you a lot.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, next time I have one of my mental breakdowns, I’ll be sure to call,” Donghyuck smirked and Renjun’s lips tightened.</p><p>“Too soon.”</p><p>“But do I ever take into consideration whether a joke is classy or not?” Renjun raised an eyebrow at the other and shook his head slowly. “So why start now?” Donghyuck sniggered and Renjun rolled his eyes.</p><p>Renjun lifted the spoon to his mouth and blew, the air brushing across the surface of the thick liquid. Renjun spooned it into his mouth with a solemn smile, the warmth kissing his tongue and scalding the back of his throat as he swallowed. The heat was nice, settling heavily in his stomach and pushing serenity through his body.</p><p>“Renjun feed me,” Renjun turned his head, his mouth tingling with heat. Donghyuck hung off the mattress, his mouth wide and pushed close to him.</p><p>“You brat,” Renjun brought his arm back in the threat of a swing as the younger drew his mouth into a pout.</p><p>“I’m the one who made it.”</p><p>“And I’m sure you have more downstairs,” Renjun scowled, lifting his spoon from the bowl. He drained it slightly to avoid a spill and pushed it toward Donghyuck. The boy grinned and scooped his mouth over the spoon. His lips fell suddenly.</p><p>“It’s hot,” Renjun quipped. Donghyuck grouched at him.</p><p>“Thanks for the warning,” the two sat in silence for a while, Renjun sipping the spoon and occasionally feeding the other, while their thoughts drifted elsewhere. It was Donghyuck who spoke first.</p><p>“I’ll leave you alone if you answer me one thing,” Renjun glanced up, his eyebrows furrowed and chin jutted slightly forward. “I’ll let you go home if that’s what you’d like.”</p><p>Renjun nodded once, urging the younger to go on.</p><p>“Do you like Jaemin? I mean like how he likes you?” Renjun sighed.</p><p>“Donghyuck…” he trailed off. His eyebrows were drawn inward with the pinch of his lips.</p><p>“I know, I don’t want to intrude. It’s just that –how I see it, you two are inseparable, always have been. And it’s extremely clear to me how he feels, and I thought I saw you the same way but –I don’t know if that’s true.”</p><p>Renjun shook his head, “How I feel doesn’t matter-.”</p><p>“Except it does.”</p><p>“Not to me. It’s not going to change the fact that I don’t want Jaemin to be surrounded by all my baggage.”</p><p>Donghyuck shook his head, “You forget that everyone has baggage of some degree. You know how Jaemin feels about being left alone, how his parents are constantly travelling; he has his own pain. And, personally, I don’t know what you’ve been going through, but I think that Jaemin could help you more than you could hurt him,” Donghyuck looked away, toward the window. His expression was black, though Renjun could see with the clouding of his eyes that his mind was elsewhere as he spoke to the other, “And I think if you do feel the same way as him you owe it to yourself to be with that happiness. Everything will only get worse inside if you’re not honest.”</p><p>Renjun studied Donghyuck’s face, he was almost wistful in his glance away and Renjun tilted his head.</p><p>“Can I at least think about whether I’m okay with that?”</p><p>“Yeah, I mean it’s not my decision. I’d like to think you shouldn’t have to but –I know that’s not true. But if you can’t think about your own happiness for once, think about Jaemin’s. He’s grown up, he can protect himself, but you won’t just be living without him; he’ll be living without you,” Donghyuck shifted and eyed the older once more, “and you may think that’s not a loss on his part, but, as someone who cares about you, if I were in his position I’d be devastated.”</p><p>Renjun fiddled with his hands, “All there is to miss is my complaints.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” Donghyuck seemed to struggle with his words for a moment, “I guess what I’m trying to say is to just learn to look at yourself through our eyes –not the ones that pick out each individual flaw in your character. You’ve helped us all just as much as you say we’ve provided. You’ve never been a burden and you’ve never taken more than we can give.”</p><p>Renjun closed his eyes with a nod. He wanted to sleep longer, to just hide away in his covers until the break was over and he could immerse himself in school –could get away from the four corners of his room, clouded with shadows.</p><p>“I can try.”</p><p>“I’m taking that because serious conversation is <em>hard</em>. Just paint a pretty portrait of my face in thanks, that’s all for now.”</p><p>Renjun rolled his eyes, the world swirling and blurred in his view, “Right, because I was planning on giving a buzzing gnat a thank you present for being a bother.”</p><p>“I have expelled so much graciousness: clothed you, fed you, given you a bed, licked your wounds; and <em>this</em> is the thanks I get. I practically raised you in the span of a <em>day</em> with the amount of life lessons I’ve spouted. I feel old, I’m about to become deadened to the world.”</p><p>“Alright, grandpa, careful; your forehead is already wrinkled enough, you’ll just make it worse looking like that,” Renjun dodged a swat with a giggle.</p><p>“You’re a brat.”</p><p>“I’m your elder, what does that make you.”</p><p>“Also a brat, but at least it looks good on me,” Donghyuck smiled and pushed a dimple into his cheek. Renjun thrust his index down his throat with a mock gag.</p><p>“I think I like jaded, old you better.”</p><p>“I think I like vomiting you better but we can’t all get what we want, I suppose,” Donghyuck shrugged, his face morphed into mocked empathy. Renjun rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, they stung with fatigue. He supposed his emotions had drained him, the feverish dreams that had plagued him providing no rest.</p><p>“I can let you rest and then take you home, if you’d like?”</p><p>Renjun shook his head, “No, it’s fine, I’ll help you clean up in here and get out of your way.”</p><p>“That: you won’t. My mom told me not to let you do anything that might remotely tire you out. And cleaning is quite the tiresome job, in my opinion,” Donghyuck gestured to the wad of blankets curled around Renjun’s waist. “So no, I don’t feel like getting chewed out today –which is surprising, I know.”</p><p>Renjun laughed softly and glanced around the small room. He didn’t want to go back to the barren walls of his own house, to feel the tightening of the walls around him like a cage. Donghyuck’s was so much brighter, so filled with life. A well-loved cove filled with childhood and memories. “I can still just go now?”</p><p>“If you want, but you’re more than welcome to just chill with me and rest up some more. I might screw around and get froyo later,” Donghyuck winked and a small smile curved over Renjun’s lips.</p><p>“Will you get me my mix of chocolate-themed flavors and maraschino cherries?” Renjun widened his eyes in wondrous effect and Donghyuck narrowed his.</p><p>“Will you give me your card?” he mocked the coy tilt of Renjun’s chin as the other groaned.</p><p>“Whatever, as long as you overload mine just as much as you do yours,” the younger yelped and bounced against the springs of his mattress, the boxy bed creaking slightly.</p><p> </p><p>It was past dark by the time Donghyuck’s car slid to a stop before the small house. It was blanketed in white, sparkling blue in the moonlight, and the lights were dimmed, the house asleep. Renjun turned to Donghyuck with a smile; the other’s eyes were hesitant.</p><p>“Thank you, Hyuck,” Renjun unclicked his seatbelt and slid his hand under the handle of the door. “For everything, I’m sorry you had to deal with all that,” the elder pulled open the door and pressed his foot into the mound of ice that had been pushed to the side with the clearing of the roads. His smile dropped with the idea of approaching the house.</p><p>“I’m glad you came to me,” Renjun turned to the lighter-haired boy, his eyebrows arched in surprise. “It means a lot that you trusted me enough to, even if you didn’t think you had another choice.”</p><p>Renjun’s smile returned as the other spoke. The truth was Renjun had had a choice. He could’ve returned home, or he could’ve wandered around for a while. But the boy knew that Donghyuck would’ve helped him. He knew that he shouldn’t have been alone and that Donghyuck would’ve been the most capable of cheering him up.</p><p>He had turned to the younger just as Jaemin had advised him to rely on others more. And even if he had inconvenienced him, the younger wanted to help.</p><p>Because they were friends.</p><p>Renjun had people who cared for him, and he cared for people as well.</p><p>Renjun shook his head to himself, he needed to stop burdening them, even if they wanted to help because they were friends, they shouldn’t have to.</p><p>“Bye, Donghyuck,” Renjun waved slightly and slipped fully from the car, his feet, clad in slightly too big shoes, planted in the snowdrifts.</p><p>“Goodnight, Renjun. Get some more sleep,” Donghyuck waved, his heart shaped smile molded onto his lips. Renjun shut the door smoothly and turned to the darkened house. It looked peaceful, regular and untainted, from the outside. The drive way had been shoveled out, a track of mud rolling over it.</p><p>Renjun twisted the doorknob, finding it unlocked, and pushed into the house. The foyer was dark and Renjun’s eyes strained, adjusting from the light that reflected off the white snow into the shadowy room. Renjun slipped the shoes off and set the pair by the door. He reminded himself to return them the next day, at least just for an excuse to leave the house once more.</p><p>The small boy’s feet were clad in warm socks, the fabric rubbing against the bandages that were wrapped snug over the cuts that marred them. He worked to be quiet as he rummaged around the house, feeling for walls until his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Renjun made it to the kitchen uneventfully before his presence was finally made known.</p><p>Renjun reached for the marble countertop, his hands grasping the open space and his eyes slowly dilating to view the dark shapes of furniture. The boy slid his hand across the counter, moving carefully toward the hall when his fingers snagged a metal spoon. It clattered across the hardwood floor and Renjun winced, glancing upward. He crouched quickly and grabbed the spoon before setting it onto the table with a small cling. Renjun hurried forward, greeted only by the flick of the hallway light. Yellow spilled into his vision and Renjun squinted, his gaze latching onto a figure that sagged forward with a sigh.</p><p>“You came home,” Renjun tilted his head at the questioning phrase, studying the black-haired woman. She approached him slowly, the familiar man following closely behind. Renjun felt cornered, his eyes scampered over an escape. “Renjun, we all need to talk.”</p><p>Renjun winced, eyeing the closed door that lay ominous at the opposite end of the hall at the word ‘all’.<br/>
“He’s not here,” the woman wrinkled her forehead pleadingly, catching the small boy’s line of sight, and Renjun backed away, toward the stools that lay empty below the countertop. Renjun pulled one out and slumped over his elbows rested against the cool surface. He glared toward the unassuming silverware that lay lonesome over the table.</p><p>“Where is he?” Renjun didn’t raise his eyes, staring down to the nubs of fingernail that lay over his chapped skin. Chilblains from the snow greeted him back in ugly shades of pink. Renjun felt the two adults shift with his words, uncertainty lacing their stances.</p><p>“The police station,” it was the man who spoke. His voice was nearly unrecognizable to the boy, having been rarely pointed to him.</p><p>“He’ll most likely be either incarcerated or sent to rehabilitation,” the woman piped in. Renjun remained studying his hands. “Renjun, please talk to us.”</p><p>“Why,” he lifted his head to look directly ahead, his eyes trained over the spot on the floor, “should I have to all of the sudden?”</p><p>“Renjun-,” a soft voice began and Renjun interrupted, his tone sharp.</p><p>“Why does it matter after I couldn’t for years? What difference will it make? He’s gone for now –great, it’s what he deserves –but who’s to say you won’t bail him out again? Or that when it’s all over and done with he won’t just move back in?” the man beside Renjun shifted slightly away from him.</p><p>“How is now any different than back in China?”</p><p>“Because we won’t be bailing him out,” the woman started and Renjun closed his eyes in frustration. “Because he threatened your<em> life,</em> Renjun –you’re my son too, I won’t put you in danger like that.”</p><p>“You did for eight years,” Renjun whispered, his eyes remaining closed. He tensed as a hand clasped softly onto his shoulder.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” the towering man spoke softly. His tone was almost broken and Renjun ground his jaw together.</p><p>“I’m tired,” he tried to lift from his seat but the hand over his shoulder tightened lightly and he nearly groaned. He forced himself back down into the seat. “How do you want me to react?”</p><p>“Renjun-.”</p><p>“I don’t understand what you expect me to say. You haven’t been my parents for years, how am I supposed to suddenly open up to you? I’ve provided for myself, I’ve practically lived here on my own with how often you’re gone. You’ve consistently left me in danger. Do you really expect me to start acting like a son to you again?” Renjun’s eyes shot toward the cowering woman’s slowly wetting ones. There was no heat in his gaze –no sadness or confusion. He was simply looking into her grieving gaze. “You don’t even know who I am.”</p><p>The man flinched away at his dull tone, his words sliced through the pair and the woman shifted her eyes away. Renjun continued to stare toward her.</p><p>“We just want to try.”</p><p>The man had removed his hand completely from Renjun’s shoulder as he spoke up, “We know you can’t wait to leave. We know we haven’t raised you, that you’ve grown to be completely your own person. But we want to try and make amends. We want to grow together the rest of the way.”</p><p>“How do you suppose you’ll go about doing that?” The woman glanced back upward, her eyes settling over Renjun’s clenched hands. Her face saddened with the redness that bloomed over the chapped surface and the callous that had formed from his constant picking against the scarred skin that nestled beside his thumbnail.</p><p>“I’ll get you that ointment,” her gaze flickered up toward his tilted head, “for the blisters.”</p><p>Renjun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube, “Donghyuck gave me his.”</p><p>The woman glanced down, her brow furrowing, “Donghyuck?”</p><p>“My friend,” Renjun elaborated. A sigh wrenched from his throat.</p><p>“Let us get to know you, Renjun –get to know the person you’ve grown into,” the deep voice piped in and the boy glanced toward him, the gaze that greeted him was just as pleading woman’s.</p><p>“God, you must despise us,” the woman whispered. Her hands were clenched tightly over her chest. She appeared frail and old, the stress of her lifestyle pushing her shoulders forward and slacked. Wrinkles had set deeply into her skin with the constant expression of sadness and worry that had marred her features for years. Renjun felt he had no idea who she was –had no idea where the woman that had held his hand all the way to the airport, or had pushed him to balance across the board on his own had disappeared to.</p><p>“I don’t,” Renjun stated, his vision still resting over her tired frame. “I pity you,” she glanced to his blank expression. “You’ve grown attached to someone who will never change back to the child they were. And in doing so you’ve lost everything else you’ve ever known,” the two adults stepped slightly away from the words that stung their wounds.</p><p>“I pity that you’ll have to live in constant reminder that you left a child to raise himself, and in turn left him to be plagued with the darkness that you tried to chase from his brother. When he wasn’t the one who needed the help, he didn’t want it, but that little boy did. And now he’s not a little boy –and there’s not much you can do to help him that he hasn’t already tried,” the two had wide eyes, scanning the small teenager that leaned back on his stool. “I don’t blame or hate you. I just pity you.</p><p>“And I’m so unbelievably tired of trying to fix everything for myself.”</p><p>The woman looked shocked at the emotion that finally revealed itself and laced through his words, hurt cracking his tone and weakening the onslaught of accusation. She stepped forward, her hand outstretched tentatively as she placed it inches away from his curled fingers, palm facing upward in invitation to the small boy.</p><p>“Renjun let me help you. Let me be your mother, for the few months I have left before you leave all this behind,” she scanned the boy’s wide eyes, focusing on the little boy that shined through. The little boy she’d raised before she left him behind to the monsters. “There’s no darkness in you, Renjun. It’s all around this house, but you are not your brother. You don’t have that same darkness as him.”</p><p>Renjun shook his head; his hand remained flat over the table.</p><p>“There is darkness in me. It’s suffocating and it’s inescapable. And it’ll just hurt everyone around me.”</p><p>The woman smiled to the boy, she didn’t remove her hand from where it lay before him. “That’s sadness, Renjun. You don’t have the monsters of your brother. You have Jaemin, and I suppose this Donghyuck, to help fend those away. Your brother was alone,” the woman watched Renjun’s mouth twist, “and what he’s done is inexcusable, I know, but his monsters came from a place of hurt –of loneliness. Whatever darkness you think you have inside of you? It’s just your pain. It’s not <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Renjun felt like he’d had those words uttered to him countless times in the past day, had turned on a broken record and sat to listen to it repeat the same line of a song over. He wasn’t sure what they meant to him, wasn’t sure what they entailed over his life.</p><p>“I don’t have Jaemin,” Renjun whispered and glanced toward the palm that rested upward. It was cracked like his, callouses ringing the pad of her hand. It wasn’t the same as years prior, it had aged with the woman –had aged with the boy’s own hand.</p><p>“You’ll always have that boy. And, if you’ll forgive us, you have your parents.”</p><p>Renjun’s gaze flitted to the floor beside the fridge once more, pondering over her words. His parents –he hadn’t thought of them as such since he was fifteen, he hadn’t thought he needed parents since then. Maybe he was wrong.</p><p>Maybe the only way he could get rid of the shadows that coated him each day and cast darkness and pain into his mind –the suffocation similar to that of exhaust fuel that swirled through a closed room, carbon monoxide poisoning the air and pulling the life from all who inhaled it –was through forgiveness.</p><p>Maybe the solitude that filled him could be dulled from its roar by the presence of his parents.</p><p>Maybe he could learn to accept the one thing he’d only ever craved in his life. The one thing his heart had ever been void of.</p><p>Renjun slid his palm over his mother’s.</p><p> </p><p>xii.</p><p>The effulgent colors of Renjun’s painting glowed over the bare walls of his room, the canvas propped against the floor from where it had been snatched away from a pile of empty pieces. Renjun stroked the tips of his fingers over the pale skin that transformed the white of cotton, red and yellow coating the cupped hands. It was rough with dried acrylic, unlike the silken touch that sent tendrils of warmth spiraling to the pit of his stomach.</p><p>Renjun yearned to clutch the whelming warmth of tender celestial palms and gaze into the honey dripped stars of dark brown irises.</p><p> </p><p>xiii.</p><p>Returning to the treehouse felt almost painful.</p><p>It hadn’t snowed since Renjun had broken down and the sun had begun its assault to melt and evaporate the snow. The days were full of crystalline glints and shimmers, the reflection of the tireless sun breaking the layers of snow into beautiful glimmers of wet.</p><p>Renjun felt himself begin to melt with the sun’s blaze.</p><p>As he walked slowly to the clearing, his feet free of bandages and burning with each slide of his runners against the sores, he was careful to keep his balance. He was wrapped tightly in a twill coat and woolen scarf, his mother having worried over the cold that had blistered his bare skin.</p><p>Renjun eyed the sunken space on the ground, melted and deformed but reminiscent of an angel. Renjun grimaced at the space beside it, snow smudged and ruffled into a position that had been filled by knees and worry.</p><p>Renjun lay beside the two forms indented into the melting ice that coated the forest floor. Grass and dirt peeked through as it thawed and Renjun ran his gloved hand over the shrubs, sliding indents across the glinting slush. He felt strange, almost content as he thought of his prior pain. With simply the exchange he had with his parents, the removal of the loud apprehension that floated over each room, replaced by muffled chatter and hesitant conversation, Renjun felt lighter. His heart was dimmed but his mind lifted, his stomach no longer curdled with each movement he made.</p><p>Renjun still felt the darkness, but he could breathe without his brother everywhere he looked. He could breathe with the support of his parents. He could breathe thinking that maybe if he found a way, he could have Jaemin in his life.</p><p>Donghyuck had told him such when he’d returned with the shoes. And, for once, Renjun felt like maybe he could be enough for the younger. Without the constant pain that had accompanied the darkness, maybe he could support the other, remove the burdens he had placed their previously.</p><p>Renjun just didn’t know how –or when.</p><p>Renjun slid to feet and stepped toward the towering treehouse. It was strange. Renjun’s childhood wasn’t held in his home. It wasn’t held in China –or his parents’ eyes. Renjun’s childhood remained solely in the treehouse.</p><p>The treehouse held his first friendship, his first safe-haven, his first birthday party (though was only a party of two). The treehouse was his first love, and with it came the first boy he’d ever truly given his entire heart –his entire being –to. With its rickety beams and rotting, water-stained planks came an oasis that raised Renjun and taught him to love, even if so painful as his felt.</p><p>Renjun climbed the latter, the wood groaning with his effort and splinters poking and snagging onto his thick gloves. Renjun pushed his weight onto the platform, its build sighing with the pressure, and glanced to the distant trees.</p><p>Branches bristled in the cool wind, snow melting off and falling to the floor in deep sinking holes. The wood was dark and rich, silver blossoming through the shadows of trees like white lace splayed over obsidian slate. With its spring melt it was jarring and beautiful. The ground was filled with soiled snow, tracks of animals bringing the brown of mud to the surface, though it still managed to appear ethereal in the clouds of white that peered through the blemishes. Even with its beauty being fleeting, melting into the blossoms of spring and introducing a different form of splendor, it was still undeniably beguiling.</p><p>Renjun nudged the white that coated the empty platform, sending clumps frozen solid to drop to the mattress below. The snow atop the treehouse was marred by footprints, formulating a pacing pattern and smooshing the blanket into sheets of ice. Renjun felt his chest tighten with the image of the younger boy.</p><p>The black haired boy dropped his feet over the edge, swinging them to kick a branch and send the white fluttering heavily to the forest floor. A space was cleared to his right; a space normally occupied by a sunshine smile and warm chin, nuzzled into his neck. Renjun touched the empty spot and frowned. His head felt heavy and dizzied with the absence of his warmth, with the absence of the comforting smile.</p><p>Renjun thought he needed that comfort the most then –needed it to assure him that everything would be fine.</p><p>He needed the boy’s comfort to assure him that Jaemin himself would forgive him.</p><p>But Renjun knew that he had to do this himself.</p><p>Renjun sighed and tipped his head back. The sky was blue, the sun a blinding white, and Renjun closed his eyes. Renjun wondered if maybe the sky didn’t taste like ash or old milk or even blueberries.</p><p>Renjun wondered if maybe the sky tasted like the snow –cool and forgiving, refreshing and hopeful.</p><p>The boy opened his eyes and stood, his knees whining with a faint click. He turned, eyed the base of the oak tree where he’d sat to draw the jade beetle. Maybe Renjun had fallen for Jaemin that day, when the boy had questioned the laws of the universe and hugged Renjun a little tighter as if he’d evade him.</p><p>Maybe Jaemin had been smart to hold Renjun like he’d soon disappear. Renjun swore not to disappear again, for his own sake.</p><p>Perched against the tree and nestled into the spot where the planks met bark was a small pile of white, Renjun’s eyes nearly skirted past them had it not been for the stain of bright yellow that admonished each small ball. They didn’t shimmer like the translucent diamonds of ice crystals; they were matte and opaque.</p><p>Renjun’s legs moved underneath him, lightly treading through the crunch of snow, and halted before the pile. It was perched over the snow, unburied and stark over the melting blanket. It was recent.</p><p>Renjun straightened fully and turned, hurrying down the steep latter and dropping a few feet to the floor. Renjun crouched and ran.</p><p>He paid no mind to the sting of his feet in his shoes or the scream of his lungs, still recovering slowly from his ailment in the cold. Renjun’s muscles ached as he pushed forward through the trees, stumbling through the trodden path and hopping over roots. There were logs that lay flipped over, the wetted toadstools and fungi kicked off with the force of a pensive shoe. A laugh bubbled up from Renjun’s throat as he thought of Jaemin uprooting the mushrooms as he walked past –of Jaemin leaving out lemon candies in case Renjun returned.</p><p>He burst through the trees, snapping branches from his face and tripping over twigs and roots, his feet skidding through the slippery snow. Renjun’s mind was trained on one thing only, his heart beating rapidly as he darted between tree trunks. The trees began to thin, more light spilling through the foliage and onto the blinding snow as Renjun’s breath puffed with each frantic step he took, his breath pale and warm in the frigid air.</p><p>Renjun burst through the tree line, his feet carrying him up the stone walkway of gardens and onto the stairs of the slim back porch. Renjun inhaled sharply, his stomach pinching with his exhaustion and lack of oxygen.</p><p>Renjun raised his hand tentatively, his fist tremoring slightly above the glass, poised in a silent knock. He should have thought it through; he should’ve done something spectacular for the younger boy –something that meant the world just as Jaemin was his.</p><p>Renjun stepped backward slightly, his foot slipping back on the icy step. He caught his hand on the railing, wincing and looking into the darkened dining room. There was a chance Jaemin wasn’t even home. The boy sighed and stepped closer to the door, back into his previous position. He could figure it out as he went, he could make it more genuine. Jaemin deserved genuine.</p><p>Renjun tapped his fist once against the glass, bringing it forward once more to complete a second tap before the final third when a voice piped up from behind him.</p><p>“Renjun?” it was questioning, though not tentative. The boy in question froze, staring into the reflection of his wide eyes in the glass. “Renjun, what’re you doing here?”</p><p>He turned and met the gaze of a brown haired boy. His eyes were soft, though still Renjun could spot their probing. He shifted under their gaze as they studied him, his bundled form and the mess of hair over his forehead.</p><p>“Jaemin,” Renjun uttered quietly, his lips a tight, timid smile. The other smiled back. It didn’t hold its usual warmth. Renjun wracked his brain for something to say, something to fill the silence that floated between them as Jaemin studied him so intensely. He felt hopeless, he felt like he’d lost the warmth of the sun to an eternal winter.</p><p>“Jaemin, I-,” Renjun ran a hand over his eyes, scrunching his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered glaring up to the sky, cursing it for its naivety toward the harsh realities of the world, colored a cheerful blue as Renjun fretted.</p><p>“For what?” Renjun closed his eyes at Jaemin’s blank tone.</p><p>“I’m sorry for- for pushing you away. And deciding what was best for you without giving you a say –leaving you alone in the woods and hurting you in the process. I just-,” Renjun hesitated, his index picked at his thumb and he was hyperaware of Jaemin’s slow approach to the staircase. The boy held a small basket of strawberries, a bush Renjun knew to be situated around the side of the house. His hands were white knuckled though his face remained stilled, eyes searching Renjun’s slouched frame.</p><p>“I’ve grown so used to thinking I was all alone. I didn’t need anything and in turn I told myself I couldn’t want anything. And- I don’t know. I feel like I’m just trying to make excuses for myself and that’s the worst thing to do, I know. I just- I don’t know what to do anymore.”</p><p>Jaemin’s head had slowly tilted, mouth puckered to the side in contemplation.</p><p>“Okay,” Renjun shot his eyes to Jaemin then flitted them to his feet just as quickly. The toes of his runners were wet, dirt crusted from his track through the muddied slush. “So, don’t make excuses.”</p><p>Renjun sighed, nodded.</p><p>“Okay,” he tilted his head back; shut his eyes, “I’ve always wanted to hold the stars, right? We used to talk-,” Renjun glanced to the younger and startled slightly at the small smile that lay there. He looked away again. “We used to talk about it, and I said I thought they would be like honey,” Renjun laughed dryly, “when the truth is: you’re like the stars, Jaemin,” Renjun squeezed his eyes shut tightly, embarrassment lacing his gut, “And I guess I’ve always seen myself as the darkness, I realize now how unfair that was,” Renjun dropped his head, pausing slightly and finding himself greeted by the soft ticking of wet snow slamming into the ground.</p><p>“But I always thought I’d eclipse your light.”</p><p>“I always thought that if I let myself rely on you, if I let you constantly help me, I’d just burden you. And that eventually you’d be as jaded and unhappy as I was.”</p><p>“Was?” Renjun’s head popped up, skimming Jaemin’s blank stare.</p><p>“My brother’s gone-.”</p><p>“I know,” Jaemin said tightly.</p><p>Renjun kept his eyes trained on the boy, “My parents are trying –to be there for me, I mean.”</p><p>“And you’re happy?”</p><p>“I’m awake. And I’m getting there. I just need a little more to be happy,” Renjun searched for a reaction, searched the dark eyes for a flicker of emotion. Jaemin had always been good at masking his emotions.</p><p>“A little more?”</p><p>“You,” Renjun choked the word out, his throat tight and his eyes scampering away in fear. “I’ll always need you to be happy. You’re my happiness, you always have been,” Renjun was whispering, his eyes stinging slightly. He could’ve laughed, he felt ridiculous. His hands shook with his sentimentality and a flush bloomed over him with the garden around them. Renjun was dizzy and he clasped the handrail, his knees locking.</p><p>“Prove me wrong.”</p><p>Confusion filtered into Jaemin’s face, his lip scrunching slightly with his eyebrows. A wrinkle marred the space between his brows as he spoke, “What?”</p><p>“Show me that I won’t ruin you. Prove me wrong. Forgive me and let me burden you and annoy you and listen to you and help you. Prove me wrong, show me that I won’t smother you with my darkness,” Renjun took a step forward; down a stair and planted his feet there, just a foot closer to the taller.</p><p>Jaemin’s eyes were near wide as he studied the smaller. He remained silent, his eyes trained to the boy’s frantic expression as Renjun glanced away; just behind the younger, to his shoulder. He looked anywhere that wasn’t his prodding eyes. Renjun felt like he was slowly crumpling, his chest tightening and his knees wobbling at the lack of reaction from the taller. Renjun felt so incredibly small and hopeless –he felt like he was in the snow again, his fingers burning and unable to bend.</p><p>But then again, when did Renjun ever<em> not</em> feel helpless around the younger boy? When had his heart ever not stuttered and tightened? His breathing was never easy –his nerves never dulled. Renjun swallowed the bile in his throat tightly, flexing his fingers with stress.</p><p>“Renjun,” the elder startled, glancing upward. His answer came in the widening of his eyes as he glanced over the other, finally meeting his gaze. “I’ve stayed here after all these years, haven’t I? I’m still here.”</p><p>Renjun’s eyes remained wide as he watched the younger with nerves.</p><p>“Don’t you think that by now I’d be gone if you truly did as you think you do? That I’d have long since lost who I am? Or long since ran from you? I’m not something for you to break or asphyxiate, why have you never been able to accept that?”</p><p>Renjun knew he was right. He’d always known the boy who brightened his shadows wouldn’t be tackled by such. He was tangible light and warmth, tackling the darkness that consumed Renjun and turning it to the beautiful arrays of colors that it absorbed. He was self-reliant and had an ever-lasting glowing disposition. He was clingy and giddy, all warm laughter and creasing, wide smiles. He was bitter leaves on ramen and poisonous coffee and sickening amounts of hard candy.</p><p>But mostly, Jaemin was the comfort in companionship. He was the warmth of a hug and the heat of a sundrenched summer day. He was the lemon yellow sun of dawn and the cherry red of dusk.</p><p>He was an unfathomable, immeasurable amount of love.<em> I love you.</em></p><p>Renjun thought of Jaemin’s soft hands and the tender brush of his warmth at his side. The swipe of a thumb over Renjun’s focus-wrinkled forehead and the tight grasp of his hand as Renjun’s own shook. Jaemin, who constantly reminded him to get sleep when he began to ignore his energy depletion to paint, was the melting of Renjun’s blackness, of Renjun’s pain and solitude. Jaemin, who’d cared for him and found him in all his times of weakness to help him heal, was the stitching of Renjun’s wounds. Jaemin, who’d supplied him candy and helped him raise himself, was the removal of Renjun’s winter.</p><p>“I never realized I wasn’t alone,” Renjun whispered, his eyes tired, “and you’ve shown me that –you’ve shown me so much kindness. You’ve always told me to heal, even if it meant I couldn’t move on. But –I think I’ve begun to move on.”</p><p>Jaemin’s head straightened as he stared down at the younger.</p><p>Renjun glanced up to his eyes. He found them clear, staring into Renjun’s with an openness he’d yet to have seen. The air retreated from the elder’s throat as he glanced over the other’s face. Jaemin had always seen Renjun for who he was; had ignored the unsteadiness of his home, the pain that afflicted him and tore him from reality. Jaemin was Renjun’s everything. He had loved the boy for his imperfections along with everything that had made him tick. He’d supported his every move, his every creation. And Renjun felt he wanted to do the same, always.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>Renjun’s eyes widened and he slammed his fist over his mouth. He was taken aback with his words, the cold nipping at his ears as his head spun drastically. Renjun felt sick. He felt as if the world had come to a halt with his words, the wind mocking him with its gall laughter. He turned away with wide eyes and stared to the winding tomato plant that sagged nearly dead in the frost of winter.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “ignore that.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” Jaemin’s voice was breathy, near afraid and Renjun flinched away. He stared pointedly to the crystals of ice that lay beneath his feet. His chest cracked and he felt his shoulders sag dejectedly. Silence loomed over the two boys and Renjun jaw tightened with trepidation. A hand tugged Renjun’s gloved fingers as the elder glanced from the vine. A small smile played over Jaemin’s lips.</p><p>“You’re serious?”</p><p>“Should I not be?” Jaemin sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes taking in Renjun’s hesitant expression. Jaemin’s head shook slightly, his grin growing larger. Renjun’s heart stammered.</p><p>“No, no you should be,” the look that seized Jaemin’s eyes seemed to solve everything that ached in Renjun. Warmth blossomed in Renjun’s stomach and he didn’t fight as it travelled to tickle across his cheeks in a blush masked by the cold’s persistent flush. Jaemin interlocked their fingers as he tugged the elder’s with comfort and Renjun felt his breathing ease slightly. “You’re my happiness too, Renjun,” Jaemin whispered into the quiet world. Renjun’s eyes stung.</p><p>“Prove me wrong.”</p><p>“I love you,” Renjun’s eyes widened at the instantaneous reply, Jaemin’s eyes enamored Renjun, the dark of his iris filled with a delicate fondness that smiled upon the elder. Renjun found that maybe he’d been wrong the entire time. Jaemin’s smile may have held all the warmth of the summer –but it was the younger’s eyes that held the light of the stars.</p><p>Renjun crumpled into the taller boy, tucking his nose into the heat of his neck and shutting his eyes. Renjun found he understood the persistent pull planets felt for their star. Renjun was entranced by Jaemin; he orbited the younger boy with such austerity he found himself nearly bow over under the heady pressure. With his slight touch, Renjun heeded entirely to Jaemin.</p><p>“I don’t know when it happened or when I really noticed but –I never let myself acknowledge it. I never let myself <em>be</em> in love with you. You’ve always meant everything to me and –I don’t honestly know how my mind works.”</p><p>Jaemin barked a laugh as Renjun muttered into the warmth of his shirt. “That makes two of us.”</p><p>Renjun pushed him slightly, pulling back to stare up into the smile of galaxies.</p><p>“Do you still feel scared?” Renjun furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Of what?”</p><p>“That you’ll do more harm than good.” Renjun glanced between the younger’s curious gaze. Jaemin seemed to truly see him in that moment –in every moment they spent together.</p><p>“You’re more so here now than you were six years ago. What’s there to fear anymore?”</p><p>Jaemin remained silent, his questioning stare melting with the sunlight that began to overtake his gaze, a smile morphing over his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes. Jaemin dipped his head quickly and kissed him. Jaemin kissed away the remaining darkness that settled in the corners of his vision and buried itself in his brain. Jaemin kissed him as they stood in a garden of their childhood –kissed him in the surrounding scent of brisk air and cold blooming flowers. Jaemin kissed him with a breath of cherries and chapped, cold lips.</p><p>It was sweet and gentle, ending just as quickly as it had come but sending sparks of tingling joy from his lips through to the squirm of his toes in the snow wetted shoes. The warmth of Jaemin’s soft breath fanned over Renjun’s cheeks and the phantom of the other’s mouth lingered over his own. He felt his heart unravel, invigorated and overjoyed with the smile that overtook his mouth and overflowing with a love he’d kept tainted with fear, newly washed away of darkness and blooming openly.</p><p>Jaemin’s eyes shone in the light of the day, unshed tears glossy and glinting with the beam that flourished over him. Renjun found he didn’t need to glimmer if he could only watch Jaemin.</p><p>Warmth flooded Renjun and he felt the beat of his heart hammer into his ribcage with ecstasy, painful and jarring with each harsh thump. Renjun looked into the eyes of the boy above him, crinkled with a smile and admonished with an incomprehensible amount of joy. He was bright and warm and shining so incredibly that Renjun felt he couldn’t breathe. The younger gripped Renjun’s hands tighter.</p><p>The stars weren’t made of honey or sticky when held, they were soft and warm and had a pocket full of cherry wrappers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>that's actually the end hehe.. I hope it wasn't a disappointing ending,, I worked fairly hard and it's kind of the first story I've ever finished so I hope you enjoyeddd（/｡＼) I mAy write a sequel,, we'll see I have time with quarantine and summer...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>